


Sparks

by lianthuss



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Coming of Age, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, LGBTQ Themes, Mutual Pining, Romance, Roommates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 39,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22757431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lianthuss/pseuds/lianthuss
Summary: Coming from a prestigious background, Elsa Larsen is a coordinator of an esteemed school at 28.But she's far from the "perfect" woman. She spends her days covering up the cracks of that perfect illusion in a tiresome routine.Until one day, she finds a homeless dancer and takes her in. Suddenly, Maren takes over Elsa's old normal like a splash of iridescence on a blank canvas.It takes two to tango—but when Elsa's first love reappears in her life, will this be her last waltz?
Relationships: Anna & Elsa (Disney), Elsa & Honeymaren (Disney), Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 113
Kudos: 159
Collections: Elsamaren Modern AU Hits





	1. Dreamlover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 9th, 2020

**Verse 1**

_Five, six, seven eight._

Her muscles throb with the R&B bass that reverberates in the practice room. The melody drives her in every slow drop with sharp and sensual transitions of lunges and isolation sets.

_Wondering why, why, why..._

With three steps forward, her arms pump evocatively with each beat, as they rise and wave in a circular motion above her. _Not too powerful._ Focus on the fluidity.

Two chest pops precede a series of arm and body waves towards the left, downward. _Don’t rush it._ Be patient with the rhythm.

_Better let go of your pride_

_Do it now, just do it now, oh yeah_

It takes her several seconds to realize that the track has already ended. The surroundings swim into focus as she catches her breath. The adrenaline that floods her senses after nailing down complex moves never fails to satisfy her.

Alas, she overdid it today. Glancing at the wall clock, she missed the last train by a mile. Everyone in her group is already scurrying to go home. She jolts herself up while fixing her sweaty bangs and prepares to head off. She'll have to shower at home instead.

"Maren, just a sec!"

Stopping her tracks, Maren turns around to meet her group's lead choreographer, Rapunzel. Or Punz, as she insisted on being called.

"Great job today!” Punz grins. “You're syncing so well with our sets and you're only, like what, around two weeks in? I'm really glad I had you sign with us, makes me optimistic for Ahtohallan's future!"

Maren’s cheeks warm up as she smirks. Punz is not much older than her, but she’s a formidable talent in dance. For Maren, it’s rare to find a mentor from who she can actually learn a lot. "Yeah, will be two by tomorrow, I guess? Thanks."

“Well, I sure can’t wait for us to do a lot of cool gigs in the long run together! We actually have one more girl joining the team, and she’s uh-mazing. Gonna introduce her later in the week, and your group will be pretty much complete!” Punz clasps her hands together.

Maren lightens up from Punz’s infectious smile. While Punz can be a bundle of nerves, her friendly nature has been a relief to Maren’s homesickness. Feeling grateful, Maren returns a smile. “Can’t wait,” she replies as her eye catches the time on the room’s wall.

_Shoot!_

“I gotta run, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Rushing off with quick goodbyes, Maren heads off to the city station.

Arriving at the station, she quickly brings out her phone, checking the train schedule and subway map as she jogs down to the underground subway that used to be a maze for her. There are only three minutes left until the next train arrives. Swiping her traveling card through the metallic reader, she ushers into the S-line, pushing her way into the jam-packed platform. The booming, deafening sounds signal the arrival of the train in a few seconds, urging her to make her way through the congestion of commuters in the middle of the rush hour.

_Whew, barely made it._ Squeezed in the middle of the train, she eyes the map plastered atop the seats, checking her next stop. In the past month, she has adapted to this fast routine, contrasting the old life she’s lived for the last twenty-two years before her arrival in Arendale. Reminiscing the choice to make the drastic shift of her lifestyle settles in her mind sometimes during commuting, and she wonders when she’ll get tired of it.

Time flies as Maren arrives at her destination. She trudges her way out the train and the platform, her eyes jumping from one huge advert to another inside the underground subway.

Climbing out the busy stairs towards the exit of her stop, she takes in the noise of Aren Square. She has grown to love the rushing of people and honking cars illuminated by the neon colors of electronic billboards her eyes seem to never tire of. The aroma of freshly made kebabs from kiosks rejuvenates her spirits as she heads into the city.

Whenever she joins the unending crowd, she always feels as if she’s stumbled into the center of the world. It’s a privileged feeling that fires up any hustling performer like her, pushing through Arendale’s intimidating glory of towering skyscrapers. From shopping centers of high fashion brands to reputable companies of different sizes, scorching anyone who can’t afford them—they contrast the hundreds of smaller boutiques and street vendors scattered across every corner of the city. A true melting pot of a metropolis, the exact place Maren intends to achieve her dreams in.

With the city’s lofty standards, stumbling upon the small budding company of Ahtohallan was a miracle for Maren. Its hybrid nature of R&B, hip hop, and modern dance enticed her in particular. She found it struggling amid fifty studios, but it's almost guaranteed to rise in reputation thanks to new talents joining this autumn under Punz’s enthusiastic wing.

Walking off with her earphones on, Maren crosses the street towards another station, feeling the environment around her to be surreal. As she walks inside and boards on the next train, she wonders when it would sink in.

It takes her a short while until she finally arrives at the final station. Exiting her way out the underground subway, the environment shifts to more modest surroundings, faded dullness of short buildings welcoming her instead. 

Her apartment is nothing close to fancy. It’s old, located in one of the poorer suburban neighborhoods on the southwestern side of the city. The ragged complex is managed by a landlord whose grumpiness is persuading her to leave. 

She brushes the thought away. What matters is the cheap rent.

Maren paces up the steps to her door. She tries to remember a minor worry she tucked away at the back of her mind. Was it about school loans? Or that call she had from home—no, she was supposed to forget that one.

It continues to pester her until it materializes in the form of a paper inserted at her door’s opening. _Shit_. Maren’s nerves return as she fumbles in unlocking her door. 

It's the second time she receives the overdue notice, and the last phone call with the landlord didn't go well. Sighing, Maren enters the small room and flops on her bed, drowning in her thoughts.

Reality hits her harder than ever. Is she being naive? She’s more than willing to commit to grinding if that’s what it takes, but if she will be homeless in the middle of it (again), she will have to pack her bags and go back to North Uldra.

Grunting, she gets up and changes into her sleepwear. She lets her exhaustion take over, come what may.

* * *

_Fweeeeep!_

Maren’s whistle breaks through the squeaks of shoes in movement. It’s the last PE class of the day for her afternoon schedule.

The routine of a teacher assistant isn’t so bad when she’s on the move most of the time. She was picky about it when looking for a second job. It doesn’t pay that well but it’s been helping her get by.

She feels lucky. Looking for a flexible day job in Arendale is never easy.

Besides, though Corona High’s school complex is small for a public one, it holds a reputation, the type that will look good on anyone’s CV. Maren takes pride in being part of the staff despite being just a part-time assistant. 

The thought brings her back to her unstable living situation. She doesn’t want to go back home and lose these opportunities if she’s forced to leave Arendale.

“Hellooo, Earth to Maren!”, an enthusiastic voice brings her out of her thoughts. Maren turns to face Flynn, a tall, dark-haired guy in his early thirties with a good heart and a charming face. As the head PE teacher, Flynn has been guiding Maren since her first day.

“I was asking if you got anything on your mind because you were kinda spaced out during the last class. The entire time you had this face on,” Flynn gives her a blank impression. “Not what I expect from your usual feistiness.”

Maren chuckles and gives him a light jab. “I’m fine, sorry. Just… got a lot of things in my mind. Pain in the ass money stuff. Student loans and all that… got a little late with rent.” Her brows furrow, feeling awkward with the topic. Everyone’s got their situations to deal with, and she doesn’t like dumping her problems on other people.

Flynn shoots her a sympathetic look. “Sorry to hear that, kid. It never gets easier. You’ll be fine though, right? Will you make it to the next payment?”

“Yeah, I should be able to in three days, just a day before the next deadline,” Maren says with a sigh. “Though to be honest, I wouldn’t be this worried if my landlord wasn’t such an asshole. And apparently, a racist too, based on our last phone call.” She adds with a bitter note.

The pair arrive at the faculty hall of the sophomore department. Flynn opens the door for them to the half-filled and open-spaced staff room. They chat for a bit as they walk towards their desks. 

“Even with the short time we’ve known each other, I know you’re tough and stubborn, so I’m not too worried. Don’t let it get to you, okay? Man, I hate those racist dickheads. More of them have been exposing their ugliness lately. I bet you this city’s stench would go down by a quarter the sooner we get rid of them.”

Maren is about to snort when they hear the clearing of a throat behind them. She doesn’t have to wait to turn around, expecting sharp azure eyes in their direction. “Language, Mr. Rider,” a stoic voice utters.

Their department’s head coordinator heads towards their desks. Her platinum blond hair sways in its usual bun as she walks closer, with strands of bangs falling on her forehead, framing a beautiful face by convention. Before the pair can even reply, she turns to head into her office, an inner room with glassed windows inside their staff space.

As the door closes from the inside, Maren and Flynn burst into a fit of giggles as they sit on their respective desks.

Elsa Larsen is a force to be reckoned with. Maren knows the popular story: at twenty-eight, she is the youngest coordinator in Corona High who manages the entire sophomore program. She’s one of the biggest reasons behind the school’s reputation, ever since she joined its faculty four years ago and climbed her way to her current role.

Including today, Maren can count their encounters on one hand, but she’s not complaining. Elsa is popular for another thing: her critical and no-nonsense personality. She’s seen it herself, confrontations that either turn ugly or straight-up awkward. For that, Maren’s more than content maintaining their distance.

The vibration on her desk pulls her away from her thoughts. Grimacing at the caller’s name on her phone, she slides the green symbol and puts the phone on her ear, getting up from her desk to find privacy. There’s some chattering in the staff room, which turns into background noise as she listens to words from the other end.

Words that drown the world around her into a buzz, as she digests them with a painful realization.

_You've got to be kidding me._

* * *

“Please, you can’t do this Mr. Clayton! You can’t just evict me out of nowhere, this isn’t legal! I really would have the money in three days! I don’t understand why you’re doing this, I still have the right to extend until the deadli—”

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re going by my rules as this is my apartment, my property.” Merciless eyes stare down at her with the point of a demeaning finger. 

Maren hates that she’s almost pleading at this heartless asshole. 

“Two strikes, girl. I already gave you that one chance. Really, I should have known, especially with the likes of _you_! God help me, don’t make me call the cops on ya!”

_Holy shit._ Maren stares back in disbelief, boiling with silent anger that’s threatening to erupt from her core. “You know what,” Maren announces. “Sure, I’ll leave this rotting shithole.” Before Clayton could throw back a retort she jolts into her room and scrambles to pack. Thankfully, she didn’t invest much in furnishing. 

It’s going to be a long night nonetheless.

* * *

Maren glances at her old watch. It’s late, just a quarter past ten in the evening. Exhausted from walking around in mild shock, she sits at a bench on the subway station while clutching her sports bag and suitcase. 

She’s at a crossroads. She can either hop on this train to go back to North Uldra or she can stay. If she stays, she would be on the streets until she can get the money for a cheap AirBnb. 

_I’m so broke._

Thinking about the hunt for a new place to rent has left her feeling hopeless. Rooming with a stranger she doesn’t trust is also not an option. Her future has never felt this bleak. 

She stares hard at the wall across, anger and frustration still coursing inside of her. Her eyes threaten to water as she pushes down that last feeling she won’t succumb to just yet.

_Was it worth going through all this?_

_I can’t go back. I don’t want to. Damn it!_

With a renewed resolve, Maren clings to it before it dissipates and unlocks her phone. Although she trusts Flynn, she has never met his brothers so it’s still a risk. _Punz! Punz lives with her folks…_ and though she knows unpleasant stories about her mom’s manipulative tendencies, it’s still the safer option. She missed her night session because of this crazy situation, and she knows she would be understanding.

Maren is about to call Punz when she hears footsteps getting closer. A whistle follows them. 

_Fuck, how long did I space out_? Suddenly aware of how empty the subway station has become aside from her and three bloodshot eyed guys, Maren is on her feet. 

A sinking feeling settles in her stomach as she lets go of her suitcase, knowing it will only hinder her movement in the worst-case scenario. Maren tightens her hold on her sports bag, thanking her earlier self for being sound enough to put her important things in it.

“Whoa, like a deer in headlights! No need to be alarmed now lady,” the snicker of a voice from behind sets off sirens in her body even louder. Two more guys approach her, wearing clouded eyes accompanied by stretched smiles. 

Maren bolts as soon as she finds an opening between them. 

“Hey, have a little fun with us will you!?” 

Sprinting to find the closest exit in the underground, Maren forces her tired legs to keep pumping. _Run goddammit!_ She hears the sounds of grunts and laughter closing in. 

_Why are they so fast!?_ Maren hates herself for letting panic eat her time. 

She turns to an empty and long alleyway and doesn’t stop. She needs to get to a place where there are people, but luck has not been on her side. Racking her brain for knowledge on these streets she’s never ventured in, she eyes a high fence by a left corner which leads to a brighter neighborhood, hoping it’s not her imagination. 

It’s dark, and there’s nowhere else that looks safer. Tightening her bag around her, she climbs the metallic fence and jumps down too soon on the other side, not recognizing the huge, sharp, and shattered pieces of glass on the ground nearby a garbage disposal dump.

Maren’s body is screaming from pain all over, not having the time to realize the cuts on her body and face. 

_I… need... A place to hide in… gotta… keep… running._ She wills her mind and body to keep awake, feeling bruised all over from the high fall. She runs as far as she can, limping in injury. She doesn’t know how long she’s been running, and there’s no one to turn to for help.

The beginnings of rain pour down in the autumn night. Oblivious to the change of environment to a more peaceful neighborhood of small condos, she finds a couple of huge cardboard boxes by one of the entrances. She looks behind her, and it seems that they have lost her trail. Luck is on her side as the boxes are empty and one is big enough for her to fit in. Without a second thought, she places herself in one of them and curls inside, hugging her sports bag as she begins to shiver.

The soft pitter-patter of the midnight rain thrums in Maren’s ears. It’s amusing, she thinks, to hear melodic beats from something so simple even in this situation. Stuck and exhausted, her body aches for movement in her brief respite. 

She listens again to the outpouring rhythm. In the seeming bleakness of it all, music still finds its way to comfort her.

Some of the raindrops fall on Maren’s face as if to soothe her while she fades in and out a few times. She attempts to move an arm, a leg, anything. In the end, she gives up.

She hears footsteps nearby. It grows louder as she turns her head and looks up one last time, seeing a familiar pair of azure eyes. Her consciousness fades out before she can recall their owner’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will have elements loosely based on the series Tramps Like Us, but it's not a full adaptation. It's my first attempt in writing fanfiction, which began as a warmup practice in between working on original stories. I don't have everything outlined, and I'm working towards specific moments I've conjured in my head. So we'll see where and how far this goes.
> 
> Edits may be frequent now and then as I'm new at writing. Comments are much appreciated.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I’m on Tumblr, Twitter and other socials under the same username.


	2. look at me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 9th, 2020

**Verse 2**

Elsa wonders how it’s possible to feel numbness and pain at the same time. Is it an oncoming migraine out of nowhere? Her head pounds as she stirs the steaming black coffee in front of her.

It could be from many things. For one, she hasn’t been sleeping well. Although it has been a month since the new semester started, the second-years who returned from their summer vacation have been a little too loud in Corona High’s hallways for her liking. 

They’re the least of her problems though. Tension within the parents’ association and the higher-ups of the staff department has been rising. The reasons are the usual: the budget and the curriculum updates. The latter has been more on the forefront, no doubt for her increasing involvement with her new role as a coordinator, a promotion put in place before the previous summer vacation started.

It’s nothing Elsa can’t handle. But as much as she tries to ignore it, there are unpleasant whispers that find their way through her cracks, and she can only do so much to keep them at bay.

_ I wish she’d get off her high horse already. Like, who does she think she is, trying to make us feel like idiots? _

_ Huh, I guess that sort of thing also happens to the likes of her. Pfft, I feel bad, but she probably deserves it. _

“U-um… so how about you?”

A thin voice pulls her back to reality. She can feel the shot of another throb.  _ Ah, of course. _ It’s this joke of a situation she’s in, the cherry on top of everything she has to deal with. 

“What about me?” Elsa picks up her cup and takes a sip. Minding its bitterness for some form of brief mental distraction is as pathetic as it sounds.

“I mean… how have you been, and all that.” The voice belongs to a slouched man who wears an expression of concern that might as well be out of pity. Whether it’s for himself or her, Elsa could care less. It’s the sort of thing you can expect from a guy like Nils Valberg.

“Nothing’s changed. Does it look like I have been crying my eyes out?” Elsa leans back and crosses her legs. “Anyways, everything is inside that bag. I made sure everything left from your... from the office desk is in there, so this would be the last of our appointments. Besides,” Elsa mutters in a bitter note as she picks up her purse and stands up, “I wouldn’t want to impose on your schedule, with the baby coming up in a week.” She looks down on him, her eyes piercing into his apologetic gaze as if to make a firm point of the impenetrable wall she has erected between them both. 

Nils stands up after a few moments while adjusting his glasses. “Are you leaving already? …I-I can pay—“

“I’ll pay my own,” Elsa cuts him off. She turns on her heel towards a smiling waitress to pay for her food. She looks back at Nils one last time and mutters, “good luck on your new life,” as she walks towards the glassed door exit, entering the night with a resolute decision to never look back.

* * *

The loud drops of rain on the windshield drown Elsa’s flood of thoughts as she turns off the car radio. It’s pouring hard tonight but she’s grateful for the sound. It relieves the exhaustion she’s been feeling since earlier. She takes a deep breath, taking in the lavender chill of her car’s interior.

Stopping at a red light, Elsa glances at her dashboard’s clock.  _ 10:15 pm. _ She’s annoyed it has gotten this late. She worries over Marshmallow being alone in the apartment for too long. With his old age and discipline, she’s not worried about a potential mess from her long absence; it’s because he can become too lonely all on his own.

There are twenty seconds left on the stoplight. She leans her head back, tempted to undo her bun right there and then, and closes her eyes for a brief second. Her thoughts have become empty from her slight fatigue, and she can’t wait to go home, hug Marshmallow, and crash hard. 

The rushing crowd crossing the street catches her attention. It’s a huge one since it’s Friday night, especially when it’s only a few blocks away from Aren Square, the heart of the city that never sleeps. 

_ Life goes on, huh. _ She holds an almost wistful gaze towards the movement of people on the crosswalk.

* * *

Elsa feels grumpy with her tired body and mind moving on their own. She takes a moment to acknowledge her surroundings. 

_ I’m finally home _ . 

She can hear the light thunder as it pours heavier outside. Thankfully, she remembers the umbrella she brings every time the unforgiving rains of Arendale’s autumn come around.

It’s quiet besides the loud pitter-patter of the rain. The basement parking is right beside her apartment unit, in a neighborhood on the quieter side of the city. All units in her complex are of the shade of white, which gives them a simple yet elegant and pristine vibe. Tonight, they are soaked with a few splashes of grey dirt painted by the heavy winds and rain that are storming this corner of the city.

She was about to head inside her building when she notices a couple of huge cardboard boxes by the entrance. She ponders, feeling certain they weren’t there by the aisle when she left for work this morning. In any case, she is tired, and her bed on the third floor calls to her. She turns on her heel.

A beat passes and she doesn’t know what compels her to stop. Something about the boxes piques her curiosity, and her silly sense of responsibility itches her conscience. She walks towards the biggest one, hangs her shoulder bag to her arm carrying the umbrella, and reaches out with her hand— 

_ Oh my god! _

There is… something— no,  _ someone  _ inside the box. 

Elsa steps back in shock. Her arm wraps around her stomach, and she feels the shot of anxiety inside her. It calms down the moment she realizes she may have seen slight movement inside. With caution, she steps forward to open the box once more. 

She had an inkling of who it was when she saw the outline of a face that could only be as striking as  _ hers _ , but now she’s certain. The person’s entire body is shivering and her hair is messy, some of it sticking on her face. 

Elsa notices the small bloodied scratches on her chin and the lower side of her left cheek. Her body is curled up inside the box, clutching on a huge and brown sports bag for her dear life.

_ M-Maren…!? _

A flash of hazel eyes startles Elsa. Even in the dark, they almost shine, making Elsa hold her breath.

The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up soon. Elsa pulls out her phone, her hands a little frantic as her thumb hovers on the wet screen in an attempt to push in 911. Again, she surprises herself when another idea takes over. 

She shoves her phone down her pocket, walks back to the box, drags it inside the building, and slides it into the small corner by the mailboxes. 

_ God, what am I doing!? _

Elsa opens the box’s lid again and reaches down to inspect a possible head injury. Maren is shivering, so she isn’t completely unconscious. 

Maren’s hair is damp, but there’s no blood. With the help of some light, Elsa sees more short gashes on Maren’s hands with her jacket’s sleeves ripped with small cuts. 

Sighing in relief, Elsa once again surprises herself— _ seriously, what am I doing _ —as she pushes the box towards the elevator entrance, pressing the button to go up to her floor as a series of  _ what am I doing _ ’s assault her inner self.

* * *

Fumbling on her keys, Elsa enters her apartment, heaving as she drags the box inside. Thankfully, she encountered no other tenant on the way up.  _ God. _ She wouldn’t have known how to explain herself. She can’t even reason against herself at the moment.

Fatigue is now somewhere at the back of her mind at this point. In a matter of minutes, calmness settles in her nerves. She kicks off her heels and pushes the box to her living room. She untangles Maren from her bag and carries her outside of the box, placing her on the sofa, which she has prepared with blankets and towels. 

Maren is wearing an oversized cotton jacket marred by mud and cuts, so it’s easy to take it off, leaving her in a black tank top. The small scratches and bruises her jacket hid are now visible and Elsa wonders how on Earth she got that many while wearing one. They’re on her shoulder, arms, and hands. 

But they aren’t what catch Elsa’s attention the most. 

With a little marvel, she understands now why she never saw the woman in anything but long-sleeved under-armors at work, even when the weather is still warm enough to warrant shirts for PE classes. 

On her left shoulder is a hawk’s striking eye, fiercely etched with its beak open. It’s half-covered by her tank top with its majestic dark wings spreading out towards her back and both of her arms. 

It’s almost like seeing Maren for the first time.

Elsa cleans the dirt and blood on her face, shoulder, and arms. She wraps a bandage around her right hand, which has a long gash. She continues to do this in silence as if the brief pause of moments before never transpired.

* * *

Elsa stares into the mushroom soup as she stirs it to a ready state. Somehow, the headaches that plagued her the entire day are now gone. She can hear the rain outside calming down.

Scooping up a few spoonfuls of the soup into a Chinese bowl, she walks over to the sofa, noticing that Maren is trembling a lot. 

Crouching, Elsa whispers. “Maren. Maren. You need to eat something warm. At least a spoon or two.” With a napkin, she tries to feed her. 

Maren, who has been going in and out of consciousness, attends to her presence with eyes closed. After the third spoon, Maren turns back to her other side, visibly more in comfort with her shivering almost gone. 

Content with this sight, Elsa gets up and carries the dishes to the sink, turning off the lights as she heads inside her room. She unties her hair from its bun and flops on her bed without bothering to change out of her clothes, staring up in the darkness. “Goodnight,” she thinks aloud as she welcomes the returning waves of fatigue for the last time that day and falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a quick reference of Maren's tattoos, it's based on Gladiolus' from Final Fantasy XV.


	3. Something New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: February 23rd, 2021

**Verse 3**

She’s dreaming.

Maren doesn’t remember when it started, but she knows she is. She was running at some point, but now, fluttering darkness surrounds her entire being. 

In a concerted effort, she tries hard to remember.

The subway. North Uldra. Pain. Dampness. Warmth.

Azure eyes.

In a jolt, Maren opens her eyes, immediately covering them from the brightness of the room. A pang spreads throughout her body, in particular her right hand, which she now sees is bandaged. 

With her eyes slowly adjusting back to normal, Maren takes a good look at the room she’s in. Almost everything is pale in color and minimalistic, including the sofa she’s sitting in. It’s serene. The warmth seeping into her isn’t just from the blanket she is wrapped in; she’s in a homely space.

Her eyes land on the kitchen counter. It sits in a large open area right beside a small dining set. It’s clean like the rest of the room, but she has an inkling it was used recently from— 

_Wait… what day is it?_ By instinct, Maren looks around for her phone, then like a crushing wave everything comes back to her: her harsh eviction, the subway assault, and chase; then comes the more vague memories of being moved around, the prickling and aching sensations, and warmth reminiscent of what’s enveloping her at this moment—though the source was more familiar and gentler, bringing her back to those eyes and recalling their owner’s voice.

 _No way… is this her place? Wait, where’s my damn—_ Before she panics, she sees her bag on the other side of the room with relief. Slipping out of the blanket, she walks towards it and zips it open, though it doesn’t go unnoticed by a particular someone.

“Grr... Woof!”

“Shi—“ Catching her off guard, Maren loses her balance, stumbling backward only to be accompanied by a shot of pain from her hand. With a hiss, she faces the source of the growling and shoots them a pleading look. 

“Look, I just need to find my phone, then I swear I’ll leave your place in peace! Swiftly. Preferably without waking your master up. Please?” Maren whispers, only to be interrupted by more growling and barking. Maren cringes and waits for the inevitable.

“Marshy? What’s going on over there?” 

Light footsteps grow louder and suddenly her sight makes Maren ponder if she is in fact in a stranger’s house.

Their eyes meet. 

_Never mind, it’s definitely her_. 

Elsa walks over to the growling white retriever, seemingly out of her element with her loose pajamas and unkempt bed hair, something she can sympathize with at the moment. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Elsa consoles Marshy as she pats and rubs his head. “She’s… a friend. From work.” Her attention returns to Maren, who waves back with a hesitant smile. 

Maren reaches out for Marshy to sniff her hand, who’s now calming down from the commotion. As she tries to pet him, an uncomfortable silence descends, leaving the air in a state of awkwardness and maybe she should just bolt out of the apartment as she initially planned— 

_Oh right, my phone_! Maren sits up in abruptness and stumbles again while landing on her injured hand, letting out a yelp. Before she could give another attempt at standing up, Elsa walks over to help her out, guiding her back towards the sofa. Elsa gives her the bag.

“Thanks… thanks a lot.” Maren smiles in hopes of dissipating the awkwardness. Especially when Elsa is looking at her like she had something itching to say. _She’s probably wondering what happened, should I tell her? This awkwardness is killing me. She did all of this for me though, so maybe she’ll listen..._

As if she read her mind, Elsa speaks up. “I’m not gonna pry into what exactly happened if you’re not comfortable talking about it. Fortunately, your wounds are nothing serious but you’re still allowed to take at least a week off from work. I’ll just have to look for a substitute next week,” she ends with a strained but formal tone.

“Wait, you don’t need to have the full week covered, I recover fast, you know,” Maren feels sudden exhaustion from those words. She looks at Elsa, her face unreadable. She feels it, the distance being held by Elsa’s professionalism. Though Elsa’s courtesy is still there, Maren can feel the shift and the walls, and suddenly she feels alone, more aware than before that she has nowhere else to go. 

But it’s too late to back down now.

“No, seriously, I got this. One time, I got into an accident as a kid, riding a bike downhill when I very well shouldn’t since, well, I didn’t know how to ride one just yet. So you can guess what happened next,” Maren smiles at the memory. “Got myself cuts and bruises aaall over me, just like right now. Patched myself right up and voila, up and ready in two days. Didn’t do so well at a biking race that day with old friends but hey, I was well enough to move around,” she gestures with a shrug, feeling awkward with her rambling.

Maren doesn’t think Elsa would take that easily.

“Even so, it won’t look good to have you still looking bruised up walking around the campus. I guarantee you’ll catch attention. And that… will be on me as your coordinator.” Elsa says as she crosses her arms. 

The words do sting a little, but seeing the Elsa in front of her say it, disheveled with darkened circles under her eyes she knows the cause of— it breaks something inside of Maren, a dam of sudden curiosity and interest she can’t hold back. Maren can sense Elsa’s walls are still up, but if it meant climbing them just to take a peek of that kindness she received, to have a taste of it once more— she would be forgiven for trespassing a little right?

Maren breaks in a small giggle.

“…excuse me?”

“S-sorry, it’s just that, you know,” Maren chortles again, which she tries hard to stop, “I’m so used to seeing you at work all firm and proper and it’s just you look, um, really different right now but— sorry, I don’t think my brain is fully awake right now actually—”

“Look, it’s great you’re feeling better now. I’m sure you wanna go home as soon as you can,” Elsa mutters as she heads to the counter, car keys in sight, “so I can just quickly dress up and drive you to your place—”

“Actually, you can’t.” _Here goes nothing_. “Or rather, there’s… not really any place you can drive me to. I got evicted.”

Elsa stops in her tracks. “Oh.”

“Long story short, my landlord is an asshole, and I can’t really afford to sue at all, so I just left. Packed my bags, stared into space due to brief existential dread, forgot the time and suddenly I got perverts on my tail, left my big suitcase behind, bolted as fast as I could, jumped right inside some big carton box after god knows how many minutes I was running, and well, now I’m here,” Maren feels a tad bit livelier than she probably should.

Elsa absorbs her explanation and gets lost in thought. Maren knows where it’s going: she’s going to be encouraged to return home to the north. _Hell no_.

And so the only natural thing to happen next was for those words to leave out of Maren’s mouth before she could take them back.

“Can I stay here?”

“Wait, I’m sorry, what—”

“I mean, with how little I get paid part-time—I’m sure you know—I won’t be able to afford a decent rent, and after my previous encounter I really don’t wanna have to go through that again.” 

“Look, I don’t think—”

Maren hisses as she stands successfully this time, feeling wretched walking to Elsa. “I just need a place to stay, while I look for a new one.” _Which is close to impossible at this point because this is Arendale and that won’t be happening anytime soon but fuck it._ “Please?” Maren fidgets with a hopeful smile, cringing a little inside. “I can pay you and it doesn’t need to be a room, just a sofa at a corner would be enough! And I can, uhh, help out with chores—well, I can’t cook, I’m not good with food, but I can maybe help with groceries too and I’m actually good at tidying.” 

Elsa stares back at her in astonishment, probably creeped out at this point. 

_Alright, this is where I get my ass finally kicked out, you’ve really done it now Maren, pack your—_

“Okay.”

_Bags— wait, what?_

“Wait, for real?”

Elsa’s eyes widen as if she also didn’t expect what she just said. “W-well, you don’t need to pay anything. It’s more logical to save it up for a new place. And I can use some help with the chores and Marshy, err, Marshmallow—”

In a beat, Maren’s arms are around Elsa, ignoring the fact that Elsa has raised her arms to push her back, though now they’re squeezed between them. “Thaaank youuu soo much!” Maren wobbles around a bit on her tiptoes, realizing how Elsa is taller even on bare feet. 

“As I was saying,” Elsa huffs out and inches back. She crosses her arms. 

_Whatever_. Maren can’t stop smiling. 

“Before I can let you stay, you have to agree to my terms. First, boundaries. We can share food and amenities here, but I’ll give you your own private space as I have mine.”

“Gotcha, no impromptu hugs, and I’ll keep my shit with me at all times.” Maren nods. She can’t help but act a little bratty.

Elsa continues to be stoic. “Second, I’ll give you your keys, but you can’t invite anyone over. Instead of paying me for rent, I expect you to help with the chores and be compliant with the building’s rules.”

“Mhm.”

“And third… as much as possible, you can’t tell anyone you’re living with me. That should be pretty obvious why.” 

“Alright, no worries, I’ll stay low profile. Easy peasy.” 

It might be the ridiculousness of the situation and her adrenaline shooting up, but Maren is feeling bolder than usual. “All terms accepted,” she raises her hand in jest, placing it on top of her chest, and bows her head.

* * *

“This is the storage room. I have one here, and another in the building’s basement. Well, I don’t think you would need to use either of them. But we will in a moment.”

“Okay,” Maren follows Elsa’s tail like a kid towards an area with a stainless ladder. “Your place is pretty neat, by the way. I wouldn’t get one this big on my own but hey, if you got the cash why not, right Marshy?” Maren crouches and grins towards the white retriever, who is now warming up to her presence. From the corner of her eye, she sees Elsa climb the ladder towards an area that seems to be a small loft. She can hear a few rustling of things but complete silence from Elsa’s end.

A few minutes pass and she sees Elsa with a tied up garbage bag climbing down. She was about to reach out and ask if she needs help, but her entire body is still awkward in movement. _Geez, hope this doesn’t take longer than the weekend._

The thought reminds her (for the umpteenth time) of her phone, now suspecting a few missed calls on it from Punz because she missed her sessions.

Maren fetches her phone from the bag. She’s right. Three missed calls and a text message, all from Punz. _I hope she’s not mad._ A little nerve-wracked, she doesn’t bother checking the message and immediately dials her.

“I wasn’t gonna stay alone when I moved here.”

“Huh?” Distracted from her waiting, Maren turns her head to Elsa, who’s already back from the storage. She didn’t expect an answer from earlier.

“I had plans for marriage.” Once again, Elsa climbs up the ladder.

“Oh,” Maren was about to apologize for prying when another voice breaks her current train of thought.

 _“Maren! Thank god you decided to call! I was so worried!”_ Cringing a bit from the high volume, she turns it down.

“Hey Punz, sorry I couldn’t take your calls,” she smiles in relief. She’s still nervous, but her worries dissipate when she hears the concern in Punz. 

Explaining what happened isn’t easy even though she feels more secure with her place in the studio compared to her job at the school. Though, Maren figures, that’s exactly why it isn’t. Losing it would be the biggest blow. She tries to be transparent to Punz, but she keeps the details brief.

“I have a place to stay at so I’m fine for now.” Maren ruffles Marshmallow’s fur.

_“Wait, really? Okay, well, of course, you did since you’re talking to me right now— wait. Maren, are you sure you’re safe there? You’ve heard about the notorious number of creeps in some blocks near the west-side, right? Who took you in, have they been nice? A lot of people fake it well okay, so you should send me your GPS location just in case—_

Before she could cut into Punz’s tirade, a hand gesture catches her eye. 

“Give me the phone, I’ll talk to her.” 

Though she can still hear Punz talking from the other end, Maren gives her phone to Elsa in a bemused motion.

“Punz, it’s me. Don’t worry, she’s safe.”

 _Huh_?

“…yes. Yeah. No, I offered her an actual space in the apartment.” Elsa sighs as the sound of Punz’s barrage of questions clearly isn’t ending anytime soon. 

Maren notices her voice softened. 

“Look, we can catch up later, we’re in the middle of sorting things out here. Later then. Bye.” Elsa returns the phone to Maren, who’s a little surprised by what just happened.

She speaks up before Maren could ask. “Punz is my cousin. I didn’t know you knew her. She visits sometimes.” Elsa glances at the loft, then back to Maren. “Well, I’ve freed up the loft to be your space, but you can stay on the sofa until your wounds are—”

“I’ll go check it!” 

“—wait! You’ll… hurt yourself…”

Oblivious to Elsa’s exasperation, excitement takes over Maren as she hops on the ladder, climbing up with one hand only. “Wow, this is so cool! This is so much more spacious than I thought!” The ceiling of the loft is low, allowing one to crouch at most. She crawls back and hovers over the small stainless fence. “Thank you so much, Elsa! You’re the best!” 

Below, Elsa looks unamused, though is that a tinge of blush she sees? Anyway, she’s still giddy over her new “place”. She crawls over to the center of the loft’s floor and lays down.

“…I have spare beddings you can use and a thin mattress. I can set it up later.”

“Alright! Really appreciate it!”

Silence descends. Maren wonders what to say next, staring up at the ceiling, the brightness of the room illuminating dust particles above her.

“I didn’t know you danced under Punz’s studio.” 

Maren smiles at the comment, making her sit up and crawl her way back to climb down. Elsa has been braiding her hair, just finishing up as she let it flow on her left shoulder. 

_Pretty_. 

“I knew you danced of course, but not the specifics. What’s your field?” Elsa asks, eyes gleaming with genuine curiosity.

“Take a guess,” Maren grins. She knows this will agitate Elsa again, but she does it anyway. Without a warning, Maren makes a slow forward body roll immediately following up with a backflip using only her left arm. Marshmallow starts barking excitedly. She does another backflip again, adding a little flair by twisting her body a bit. _Ow_. She lands back to the ground, on one knee, and looks up at Elsa.

“Not bad. Modern dance?”

“Close! I practice two styles, that and street dance. So how ‘bout it ma’am, what’s my score? Or is it too impressive that a ranking won’t suffice?” Maren teases with a grin.

Elsa smirks. _She didn’t_. In the blink of an eye, it was gone. “Don't call me that, it’s weird.”

“Sure, sure—” Maren stumbles over. “Ow…”

“That’s what you get for being stubborn. You okay? Your left hand should have a small cut too.” 

A murmur comes out of Maren. “…mmm..wer.”

“What?”

“…I’m dying for a shower.”

* * *

_Bandages cleaned, check. Plastic bags around bandaged hands, check._ The smaller band-aids she has should be waterproof according to Elsa. Maren steps into the tub, now filled with lukewarm water and soap. It’s pure bliss.

A few moments pass as she soaks herself in, contemplating how she will shampoo her hair. Her scalp is itching all over. She attempts to grab the bottle nearby and pumps it with her elbow with frustration. As expected, the shampoo liquid squirts on the side of the tub, and simultaneously, she realizes her hair is not untied.

_Nope, this is not gonna work._

“Um, Elsa? Are you there?” Maren calls over, a little frantic.

“Yes?” Elsa’s muffled voice echoes right outside the bathroom’s door.

“This isn’t working, my hands are super useless right now and I’m itching to wash my hair… can you help me?”

“S-sure, give me a moment,” Maren hears Elsa walk away. She waits patiently.

A moment passes. And another.

“Achoo!” Maren squirms and hugs herself. _Where did she go?_ “Uhh, Elsa? You can come in anytime now!”

She hears the turn of the door handle. “Sorry, had to get something. So what do you need help with?”

The sight of Elsa’s arrival turns something inside of Maren.

She bursts into laughter.

“Excuse me?”

Maren can’t help it. Elsa’s already busying herself by grabbing a stool to sit on behind the tub, but the image has been seared in her mind. _Elsa’s wearing black sunglasses. Freakin’ sunglasses._

“Stay still, it’s already foggy enough in here.”

“Or, you can take them off instead,” Maren snickers. “Elsa, we’re both women! Have you never been in gym classes with girls before?” Maren turns around, only for Elsa to turn her back around by her shoulders.

“It’s called ‘respecting a person’s privacy’. I don’t want to see what I shouldn’t.” Elsa removes Maren’s long braid and proceeds to shampoo her. 

Maren relaxes into the movements. She doesn’t know what to make of what’s happening, but somehow Elsa is washing her hair right now. Of course, it’s only for her circumstances that Elsa’s being (overtly) nice, but enjoy it while it lasts, right? 

She wonders how many times Elsa has put up walls she has barely climbed, bearing no doors for anyone to knock on.

And then, just like the rays of sunlight seeping in that morning, an earlier image of Elsa with distant eyes enters her mind, leaning by the loft and braiding her bed hair with her slim fingers, the same ones massaging her scalp right now.

“Hmm, that feels really good,” Maren thinks out loud on a slip. Figuring that it’s too late to take those words back, she leans back more into the touch.

Before she could even resist holding back another comment, a blast of cold water hits her scalp, freezing any coherent thoughts she has left. 

“Aaaa!!! Elsa!?” Maren yelps and flails in surprise, splashing around the water in the tub. She turns around to look up at Elsa, still with her sunglasses on, now grinning at the mess she is responsible for.

_Yeah, it’s worth the climb._


	4. Good Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 10th, 2020

**Verse 4**

_“Marshy! Mom and dad are fighting again…” a tearful Elsa buried her face into the fur of a white retriever puppy. Though barely grown, he held exuberant energy that would always grab her adoration. “Dad… dad has another affair. They’re thinking about divorce again. Why does this keep happening?”_

_Marshmallow turned around and licked Elsa’s face, wet with her tears from crying hard. Elsa smiled through the puppy’s kisses, touched by his displays of affection._

_The white retriever got immediately attached to her. Sometimes, Elsa would think back to the quiet and isolated years of her childhood, spending her time alone in the room drawing and reading endless novels. If she had a pet like Marshmallow before, maybe she would have been less lonely._

_The recent years have been tumultuous. Filled with intermittent fights, the fragility of their household gradually rising to the surface have seeped further into Elsa’s walls._

_Marshmallow arrived and relieved her pain._

_Elsa assumed all families went through this. At a young age, she wasn’t completely ignorant. She knew of the happy beginnings followed by the lows of marriage—the hurt both parties brought to each other, and the high expectations they held towards one another. The worst of it all was that she loved both Agnarr and Iduna and understood their mistakes. And between those mistakes and the pain they have caused, was a love that they desperately kept alive, less for the sake of each other, but more for the sake of their only child._

_So when they booked a ferry trip to Alemann, an attempt to fix their ailing relationship with a new experience, she held onto the hope that things would improve. It was a genuine feeling that made her enthusiastic about the whole thing, urging herself to help with preparations. Elsa carried those feelings with her as she drove them to Arendale Port, a memory that would stay with her for as long as she lived. With Marshmallow beside her, she had imparted her parents a bright smile, the first in weeks, as they boarded the ferry._

_On the way home, Marshmallow never left her side._

_Even when the news that arrived the next day would end up shattering her walls, her heavy and aching sobs flooding the emptiness of their house as she held onto Marshmallow for her dear life._

* * *

Elsa sips her black coffee, staring at her staff’s weekly schedule. She hovers on the edit button in contemplation. Adjustments are normal near the beginning of the school year, much to the enjoyment of the students, who deem the lax period as their “last chance to go all out and have fun”.

An entry catches her eye under the list of assistants. _Maren Heidi - part-time, 20 hours_. Elsa sips once again while glancing across her office’s glassed windows. Her eyes skip two desks in the open area, only to see Flynn Rider with his headphones on, mouthing some words as he busies himself with paperwork. 

As she expected, the smaller desk beside him is empty. Maren is rarely on it after all. Before the last two weeks, Elsa can count on one hand the number of times they have talked.

_Two weeks_. It feels longer than that, with the new living situation caused by her abrupt decision. It hasn’t been bad so far, she reckons, except for a few incidents around chores.

Like when Maren cleaned at one point…

_“Elsa... Was this expensive? Like, really expensive?”_

_“Well… a usual Bernardaud price, I guess…”_

…or that time Maren attempted to cook for her…

_“Actually… maybe we should just get pizza delivered?”_

_“…sure, but why is the kitchen filled with white powder?”_

…or that other time she asked Maren to do the groceries…

_“I sent you the address of the Bodega store I usually get my spices from. Stop at 33rd St and it should just be a few blocks away, okay?”_

_“Roger!”_

…which didn’t end quite well.

_“Elsa… where am I…”_

_“…and how do you suppose I would know?”_

In the end, Elsa opted for leading the bigger chores while Maren would simply assist her around. She leans back, thinking about how she doesn’t mind the new arrangement at all when a memory sneaks into her thoughts.

_“Ah, my body is sore.”_

_“What did we talk about personal spa—“_

_“Yeah, yeah. What are you reading?”_

_Elsa was sitting on the sofa when Maren flopped on it and snuck her head on her lap. In a huff, Elsa returned her attention to her magazine._

_“It’s an old issue about popular conspiracies and unsolved crimes.”_

_“Oh, I love that stuff too! You’re a bigger nerd than I thought, thank god.” Even without looking, Elsa sensed that Maren was grinning at her. She flipped a page and continued to read._

_“I read too much of these things,” Elsa blurted out. “I wanted to be a journalist at some point because of it.”_

_“I can totally see that,” Maren was nodding. “I can see every word in your articles being drenched in snark. You’d be popular as hell for it, especially with your sharp looks.”_

_“You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?” Elsa said as she looked down and saw Maren chuckling, barely noticing that she was starting to smile herself._

In some ways, Maren almost reminds her of Marshmallow.

All of a sudden, Elsa adjusts in her seat. _Get a grip, seriously._ She collects herself and gets back to work.

* * *

“Mr. Weselton,” Elsa closes the door behind her, feeling stiff as she walks further inside the principal’s office. She knows something is up and she doesn’t like it one bit. 

_Just when I was ready to go home._

“Miss Larsen! I hope you’ve been well, as you always seem to be,” the short, skinny man in his seventies looks up to her from the rims of his glasses. He clicks around on his computer in silence, leaving Elsa standing at the center of the room before finally saying “take a seat, please”.

Elsa sits down on one of the chairs right in front of the principal’s desk. “Is there something you wanted to talk about?” 

She holds her jitters at bay. She isn’t the biggest fan of Weselton, who holds his title because of his renowned career in education. He’s also known for being an opportunist who sometimes crosses the line of propriety.

“Not much, I just wanted to check in on how things are doing with your new staff,” Weselton turns his chair towards Elsa, moving closer to his desk. “And the new office, for that matter. We haven’t had a good chat since your move.”

“It’s been good so far, thank you. Moving to the wider space proved to be better for a lot of the staff.”

“I expected nothing less,” Weselton praises her. “And on top of being the youngest coordinator this school has seen, your achievements sure have been remarkable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Weselton interlocks his fingers, his eyebrows furrowing. “Miss White came to me the other day about a situation she briefly had with you.”

_Oh_. “Right. I believe that situation has also been resolved. Is there something wrong?”

“Well, as you said, it seems to have been resolved. Yet, she seemed very troubled by it, blaming herself for a mistake you’ve pointed out. Which I then learned was a small header mistake on one of our curriculum materials handed out. Supposedly, something you got mad about.”

_I was not!_

“That must have been a misunderstanding,” Elsa claims, a flush rising out of her from the pit of her stomach. The encounter with Miss White from last week comes to her, which has slipped from her mind.

_“Ah, I’m sorry! I didn’t know. Oh no, I think I did it wrong for all the other papers too!”, Miss White chirped, startled in front of Elsa._

_“It happens. Just be careful next time, okay?” Elsa assured the woman. She attended back to what she was doing when she heard Miss White say something._

_“I feel so silly… I mean, you came after me as a fellow junior, and now you’re already a coordinator.” In the corner of Elsa’s eyes, Miss White was playing with the tips of her hair. “I got in here thanks to my network, but I still can’t become full-time due to my lack of experience. I guess I don’t compare to gifted younger ladies like you.” She chuckled. “You went to Trom, right? That university is tops. I’m so envious, everything for you is a piece of cake.” Miss White chimed._

_An upsetting twinge inside Elsa shifted something within her. She took a deep breath. “If you’re so envious, why don’t you go and sit for the entrance exams? I’m sure there’s no age limit.” She paused at her chore to face Miss White, accompanied by a brief smile in a deadpan manner. “Although, I don’t know whether that will teach you how to write correct headers.”_

“All I’m saying is,” Weselton explains, bringing Elsa back to the present, “Exercising your strict nature to uphold our quality is welcome, but perhaps not so much towards your colleagues. Especially over such trivial things,” he ends with a hand gesture and a smile.

“Okay.” Elsa’s left with not much else to say. “If there’s nothing else, I will take my leave.” 

As she walks on her way out, Weselton calls to her. “Take it easy, Miss Larsen. She isn’t as strong as you.”

With a nod that is barely there, Elsa heads outside and walks in silence. The hallways are quiet, painted in deep orange by the sunset. She quickens her pace, when murmurs from an adjacent room slow it down again, its room barely open. 

“It’s all I’m saying,” a guy’s voice echoes, recognizably a faculty member from another department. “I can’t imagine going out with a stuck up chick who has a higher salary than me, flaunting those two master degrees. I just can’t.”

“You’re a real idiot,” another guy chimes in. “What’re you gonna do if she hears that? She’d get your ass handed over on the spot.” He laughs.

_It’s nothing new_ . _It always happens_. She continues her walk when more words reach her ear.

“Nils broke up with her because of that attitude, no question. Almost two years down the drain, man, I feel bad for the guy.”

Before the unease could settle in, Elsa leaves but with another set of words haunting her.

_“I feel more relaxed when I’m with her.”_

* * *

“Hrmm… oh, Elsa, welcome home,” Maren greets her from the sofa, but Elsa’s mind is elsewhere. Stepping out of the hallway, she puts her sandals on one of her racks, leaves her bag by the center table, and walks into the kitchen area.

She brings out a pan from the cupboard and a few ingredients from the pantry and the fridge. “Have you eaten?” Elsa asks in between, her tone calm.

“I got a sandwich on the way home,” Maren answers, walking over to the counter. “So you don’t really need to prepare… anything…” 

Maren’s words die as they go through Elsa’s one ear and out the other. She has already put on her apron, slicing through onions, garlic, and carrots. Her pan is sizzling scrambled eggs and follows it with sauteing the vegetables she just chopped, adding some peas to the mix. She keeps it up until she adds the rice and stir-fries the whole dish, its rich aroma soothing her senses, garnering some attention from her roommate.

Some moments pass as Maren’s enthusiastic praise interrupts Elsa’s dazed state, still finishing up the fried rice she just made. “Oh man, it’s just too good! Seriously, this is one of the best things I have ever eaten in my life,” Maren claims, swallowing the last spoonful. “It’s even better than last week!”

“Mhm,” Elsa leans on her elbow, amused by the sight in front of her.

Maren stands to clean up, stretching her arms. “Ah, thank you for the good meal. I’m gonna go ahead and shower,” With a smile, she leaves the counter and puts away her plate.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Do you want your hair to be shampooed?” Elsa asks, still leaning on her elbow.

Maren makes an unreadable look. “Um, my hand is fine now though. But… sure! I’ll… go prepare then!”

Just like earlier, Elsa moves as if she’s lost in reverie—like something has reigned over her movements since she entered the apartment. It nags her in the back of her mind because she knows this is not the first time—not since the last two weeks of this new normal. Beat after beat, she would do one thing after another, familiar chores she has done for so long—yet this time she would feel lighter, the weights of her heart cast away outside of her apartment’s doorstep.

It feels truer right now. She catches herself in the middle of a slow rant as she washes Maren’s hair, her agitation seeping into her voice. “Should I feel bad about going to a good university? And must people keep babbling about it in such a crude way?”

“Erm, Elsa, it’s a little hard…”

“And the way they say it! Does it make them that happy to jerk over other people’s misfortune?” Elsa goes on, her voice rising a little in strain.

She slows down with her rinsing and takes the showerhead.

“…I’ve never naturally had anything…” Elsa whispers, a tinge of hurt dripping in her voice.

_Everything I have… is what I’ve worked hard for._

_Are they saying it’s all useless?_

“Elsa.” Maren’s voice brings her out of her thoughts. “You know what, I think you’re pretty great.” 

Elsa meets Maren’s eyes, who are now looking up at her.

“You’re an excellent cook. Heck, you’re even washing my hair right now. You’ve been nice and kind to me heaps. And…” Maren adds, though now quieter, “I know you’re always working harder than anyone.”

The words put Elsa in a helpless stupor and she can only stare back. Before she attempts to reply, Maren has turned back around. It dawns on her that she’s not wearing her sunglasses. 

An inviting back and a wave of vulnerability flood her senses.

What to do?

Elsa doesn’t wait for an answer. She leans her forehead on top of Maren’s damp hair and notices a still in her movements. Soon after Maren relaxes, now with Elsa’s arms around her shoulders. 

In the comfort of their silence, Elsa could feel Maren’s soft breathing, remembering she is not alone.

* * *

_“Marshy, you’re the only one that listens to me.”_

_A dream?_ Elsa opens her eyes, recognizing the surroundings as her bedroom. A pang hits her head as she tries to remember when she had fallen asleep. _Ugh_. Her memories are hazy from the previous night.

Just when she forces her head to remember more, a slight movement disrupts her from behind, alarming all her senses. Her pulse palpitates as she abruptly turns around to see Maren in her bed, sleeping in peace.

_No…_

Without a second thought, she lifts their blanket. Elsa sighs in relief. They still have their clothes on. 

_God_ , Elsa thinks, almost chastising herself. She sits up and rubs her eyes with her palm heel, the headache finally manifesting to her mind as a hangover. 

The memories return to her. _That’s right, after that, I drank and…_

_“Nils youuu… dooork! Having an affair… hic… with someone who doesn’t shower! You idiooooot!” Elsa swayed by her balcony, losing her footing on the way._

_“Elsa, it's three in the morning!” Maren desperately held her down with care, pulling her back into the apartment._

_Did she look after me all night…?_ Elsa looks over at Maren, who’s curled up and facing her. Touched, Elsa reaches over Maren’s forehead, brushing her fingers over Maren’s messy fringe. _Thank you._

Elsa gets up to start her day, braiding her mane in its usual way. The apartment is quiet, shadows of the late noon looming in the surroundings. It occurs to her she has seen little of Marshmallow since she arrived home last night, who was already sleeping at the time she did.

“Marshy?” Elsa calls out, walking by her storage room. She sees him curled on his mat, but trepidation strikes her. Something is wrong. 

Marshmallow is completely still.

Elsa’s breath quickens as she crouches down. She carefully caresses his fur and head, until her shaking hand finally reaches around his left side. A quiet heartbeat.

Elsa takes a few moments controlling her breathing with deep inhales. _Get it… get it under control._ At the last exhale, she wastes no time as she grabs her car keys and carries his body outside.

Her thoughts are empty. She holds a calm expression throughout the entire drive to the veterinarian. But neither could mask the tremor at her core, felt through the prickling of her eyes, and the shaking of her hands on the wheel.

The events would pass by in an instant. 

Twelve years.

Failing health which can cause more discomfort and pain.

It would be quick and painless.

A peaceful ending to his life.

In the blink of an eye, she’s back at her neighborhood, its tranquility engulfing her. Clear skies escort her footsteps on the way home, though they are heavy on the pavement. A gravity she has never felt before.

No, she _has_ felt it before.

The tremor in her never stopped. Even then, she has to hold on, just for a bit longer. Every step forward the aching inside her grows, pulsing and devouring, but she still moves forward. It grips Elsa’s entire being until the moment she holds the handle to her entrance door with the same weight. And when she sees Maren standing there in the hallway, eyes filled with concern saying words audible to her ears—her vision blurs. The grip loosens around her heart and everything is let out, and it won’t stop. It keeps pouring out, stealing her strength and control, giving way to her legs, a wave of anguish holding her in place. 

And Maren is there. Maren holds her and takes it all in, with a shoulder that carries her weight and absorbs her tears. In her mourning, Elsa wonders how much Maren must have gone through in life to have this strength, in the moments she has not seen her. 

How much Marshmallow had to bear all this time.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here.”


	5. Greedy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 10th, 2020

**Verse 5**

“Wait! Not yet,” a firm yet gentle voice stops Maren’s hand in movement, which was about to take away a piece of sausage from a plate.

“Alrighty,” Maren snickers, returning to the counter. As she eases into her seat, she absorbs the waft of bacon and eggs that permeates the radiant kitchen, with a tease of vanilla perfume at the end. In the past month of living with Elsa, Maren has gotten used to these weekend brunches.

“Here you go.” Holding two warm plates of food in hand, Elsa places one in front of Maren. Her hair glistens from the rays of the forenoon. “You’re welcome.”

“Hm, too good,” Maren murmurs, already downing on her eggs. “How do you make normal food taste so good?”

“You know you say that almost every day, right? And don’t rush it,” Elsa notes as she slices through her sausages. “Punz should be here soon, right? She can stay for a bit.”

“Mhm, no can do, we have a long session today. Usually is on Saturdays.” Just when Maren pauses her eating to check the time on her phone, the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it.” Elsa stands up, making her way down the hallway.

“Howdy!” Punz’s chirpy greetings echo to the kitchen, making Maren smile through her food. 

Feeling energized, Maren finishes and cleans up, grabs her sports bag, and darts towards the entrance to meet the two.

“And hello to you too! Should we go ahead? I think we only got a few minutes to spare until the next train stops.”

“Yeah, I’m good! We’re off then,” Maren says as she puts on her sneakers in a rush; and maybe it’s the adrenaline kicking in that moment or Elsa’s almost distant look—her arms crossed as she sees them off—but the impulse to step in and give her a chaste kiss on the cheek takes over. And so she steps in and does just that.

Walking ahead, she notices Punz a little left behind, still by the door, giving a brief and questioning look at Elsa. Elsa just returns it with an oblivious poise.

In a beat, Punz catches up to her as they make their way to the subway station, a small one just right outside of Elsa’s neighborhood. Punz was right. They still have a few minutes to spare until the next train arrives. Enough for Maren to notice that Punz is grinning at her, giving her the same look as she did towards Elsa.

“What?”

“Nothing, seems that Elsa and I have more to catch up on.”

* * *

_Throb._ Maren stares at the ceiling while leaning back on her arms, catching her breath from a brief session of leg stretching. A mild ache is coursing through her body, the type that keeps her exhilarated even when her legs almost gave out minutes ago. She appreciates the break, though. It’s only late afternoon but her tank top is drenching in her sweat. 

_Ugh, I feel gross._

Switching to a cross-legged position, Maren glances around her. It’s a little crowded and her peers from her group today are sitting close by, chatting about the daily mundane.

The Ahtohallan studio received a new dash of colors, replacing the grey walls with vibrant maroon and milk-white. They have also expanded the space, with more wall mirrors and refurbished lighting in different rooms, illuminating everything with a cool vibe at night. Punz said that it makes the studio’s production more cinematic—which reminds Maren, is the reason the weekends have been long and challenging so far. After all, the best way to gain popularity fast is through social media, and Punz’s complex choreographies shine best not only in live performances but also on featured videos.

Maren moves her attention to the center, a few meters away from where she’s sitting on the floor. The practice of new choreography is ongoing, meant to show in three’s for socials with the full major performance to feature five people. Punz is at the front, instructing a group of people not over twenty so she can pick out which ones they would select in the song’s groups. 

She observes in silence. It’s not a challenging one so far, but it works best with people who are more aligned with slower beats, which can be tricky to nail.

“…got me feelin’ so incredible, five, six, seven, eight and hold,” Punz instructs, making fluid arm and body waves accompanied by two sets of footwork changes. At hold, she stops with her arms in front of her, forming an almost closed circle with each palm facing downward, and instructs further. 

“Love me love me baby are you down can you let me know,” Punz mouths the lyrics as she does three powerful arm pops upwards. She does ten complex transitions within the pre-chorus alone until it ends with another hold, which is an evocative pose. 

“Be creative at this part, express your beautiful selves here.” Punz smiles with her chin up as the rest of the group plays around a bit with different poses. “Then chorus, five, six, seven, eight, I want you to feel yourselves the most here.” She repeats the step, which is a sensual butterfly move towards the left, accompanied by an arm caressing motion. 

“Move it up and down your left arm, like you’re exposing your veins in lavish, feeling all of it. Make it real obvious no strings will ever attach, you just wanna have fun,” Punz notes with a teasing tone, inciting laughter from the group.

 _Wow._ The last part was oddly described, but the movement impresses Maren with how it fits so well with the song’s lyrics. She already knows it’s going to be a hit.

“Alright, let’s try a full run from the top!” With Punz’s call, the music starts.

Maren readjusts her sitting position, giving the group a little more focus. A few seconds in and everyone is doing fine so far. But it’s the pre-chorus’ change in tempo that Maren anticipates. And as she expected, she notices a few trips, stops, and mistakes from some people. She knew it was going to be tricky on the first try for the most part. 

_Not as tricky for her, I guess._

Out of practice, Maren tries to do as Punz does, observing every dancer as much as possible through the wall mirror. But old habits die hard. Try as she might, her focus would still find its way back to one of the girls in the front row, near Punz’s left side. A few missteps aren’t enough to ruin her flow, her movements almost in sync with the intended rhythm.

Ever the scene-stealer, Anna Meyers still glows the brightest in a crowd.

“Alright! Let’s take fifteen and we’ll walk the second verse after.” With the call for a break, the group dissolves away. Maren pretends to not notice the cheeky grin of the redhead walking towards her and pulls out her phone to play with it.

“So how was it?” Anna teases as she sits beside Maren on the floor, nudging her by the shoulder.

“Hmm, it was okay, but I was looking at the whole group so I missed half of it.”

“Maren, please,” Anna rolls her eyes, “I could feel your ogling the entire time.”

“Ha, you wish.” Maren retorts while tossing a hand towel at her.

“So, any plans tonight?” Anna teases again while using the towel to dry her neck. “You can come over if you want... Hans is out until tomorrow,” she adds in a quieter note.

“Sorry, got some stuff to take care of with my other job so I need to go home right after.”

The lie doesn’t sit too well with Maren.

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t completely true, was it?”

“Whatever you say—”

“Ow!” Anna hisses in pain, her hand hovering on her left eyebrow where a piercing sits.

Maren sighs. “Tsk, I told you to avoid touching it.”

“But my face feels really gross right now,” Anna complains.

Another sigh. Maren takes the towel in Anna’s hand, and with care, brushes her strawberry blonde fringe away. She pats the towel on Anna’s forehead to dry off the sweat. 

Anna is blushing. “You look like a tomato,” Maren drops out of nowhere.

“Oh, piss off.”

Maren can feel Anna’s eyes on her so she decides to break the tension. “So what’s your brother up to nowadays? Still flying around the states?”

“Not as frequent as before, he actually just locked a new job the other day.” 

Maren can’t help but notice a hint of disappointment in her voice. _She’s always been easy to read._

“He’ll be staying more in the city apparently, and the traveling part is cut down by a bit since he’s gonna be working at a school. Wait, your other job is a TA, right? What’s your school’s name again?”

“Corona High, why?”

And just like that, Maren sees the energy back in Anna’s eyes. “You’re gonna see him around then! I think his role is called international-something coordinator?”

“Oh, something related to exchange studies then,” Maren puts away the towel. “Wonder if he remembers me, we rarely met.”

“Yeah, I guess. I think he will though, ‘cos I didn’t shut up about you.” Anna says as she tucks her hair. After a pause, she takes a swig from her bottle, tightens her shoelaces, and stands up. “I’m heading back then.” 

Anna walks away with a smile. Maren eyes her back until she sees her join the group that has gathered back into the center, readying for the next session. 

_I guess you can’t run from everything in the past._

* * *

Maren rolls around her beddings and checks the time. _12:37 pm._ Her Sundays are more lenient, and today she doesn’t have to go to the studio until 4 pm. Running out of ideas for distraction, she stares at the ceiling and wonders how to kill time in the next three hours.

Her stomach grumbles. _Well, there’s my answer._

She crawls to the loft’s fence to see if Elsa is around. “Elsa?” Maren calls for her as she climbs down. She walks around the living room and the kitchen but Elsa is nowhere. An idea hits her, making her glance at the shoe racks. _Nope, she’s here._ Turning around, she notices Elsa’s door is open by an inch, so she walks over and knocks. 

“Elsa? Are you here?” Hearing no answer, she opens it with discretion and takes a peek inside. 

The room is quiet as she walks in. Now in clear view, she sees Elsa curled up on her bed, her face looking a little scrunched. Maren places her palm on Elsa’s forehead out of worry. _Hm, no fever. Did she sleep in this long?_ Crouching down where Elsa faces, Maren whispers to her. “Elsa? Elsa, it’s almost one. Let’s grab lunch.”

A murmur slips out from Elsa. _Is she dreaming?_

“Elsaaa, let’s go eat.”

“…hnn… Hans…”

 _Huh?_ The name surprises Maren a little, making her wonder if it was the same one she knows. Whoever it is, it irks Maren a bit. 

That irks her too, which doesn't help.

With a huff, Maren softly pinches Elsa’s cheek, startling her enough to wake. 

“Ahh, Maren, stop it, hngh…” Elsa brushes her hand away and rolls over to the other side. 

“Elsa, come on.”

“…it’s only been four hours…”

“You can’t skip lunch!”

“…five more minutes…”

“…then me too,” Maren says as she slides into the blanket.

“W-what are you doing, get off!” A disheveled Elsa finally sits up and glares at her.

Outside, Maren can hear the beginnings of a rain shower. “Hmm, warm…” She murmurs as she huddles into the pillows, a tang of vanilla flooding her senses as she dozes off. She contemplates leaving when Elsa lies down again.

“…alright. Come on, you’re gonna fall over.” Elsa readjusts the duvet, wrapping it around them both as they huddle near the center. 

The sound of raindrops washes away the thoughts of practice later. She stares at the fluttering of Elsa’s lashes, the sprinkle of freckles that were often covered by foundation, and the rise and fall of her figure, lulled by the pitter-patter. Maren moves in closer into the warmth when it comes up again, the irk she felt moments ago. She wills herself to forget it, only to end up wishing that Elsa would forget the dream as well right before she finally sinks into slumber.

* * *

“Lunch?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Maren replies to Flynn who is hovering by her divider. She rarely hangs around the office, but something about today has been nagging her at the back of her mind, making her too aware of her surroundings at work. Unfortunately for her, the irk from yesterday grew into a curiosity that needs to be sated.

“You heard of the new guy downstairs? The one that replaced Smith?”

The question catches Maren’s full attention. “Oh yeah, I have.” She pauses, before asking him, “You’ve seen him around?”

“Well, I was gonna ask you that,” Flynn replies while playing with his key chain. “Apparently, he already made such a strong impression, the rest of the faculty has been at it this morning. As a fellow man of the same reputation, it got me curious.”

The comment draws a snicker from Maren. She knows as much about the air around Hans when she met him two years ago. Tall, handsome, and confident with his words. Anna resembles his presence a lot, yet the siblings maintained an awkward relationship. _“He’s not a bad guy, he does look out for me,”_ Anna would say. _“We just aren’t usually on the same page.”_

Maren and Flynn descend the flight of stairs that leads to the hallway near the cafeteria house: a large room that used to be an auditorium, now filled with students and a few teachers from different years. With most of them already in the room, the small lobby outside its doors is empty. Or so she thinks until she sees two figures talking right outside.

“What do you think they got today—”

“Sshh!” Maren swerves to the left, pulling Flynn with her behind a corner right by the lobby.

“Uh, what’s—” Flynn whispers, but Maren hushes him again as the voices become more audible.

“It’s been… eight years?” It was for a brief second, but she saw a guy in a formal suit with auburn hair. Maren’s sure it’s Hans.

“…yeah.” _Elsa._ Maren can’t see them, but she hears a tinge of shyness in her voice.

“I didn’t think I would get to meet you here,” Hans says with a chuckle. “I… guess we can see each other now and then, right?”

“…yeah, I guess we can.”

“So how about takeout instead?” Maren asks suddenly, already walking opposite of the cafeteria. Maybe if she walks a little faster, she can shake off the prickling in her chest.

“Uh, sure,” Flynn catches up by her side, a little confused. She hears a notification go off from his phone, which Flynn checks. “Well, I was going to ask you about _that_ , but looks like Snow has it covered.” He reads the text. “Apparently, Hans went to Trom Uni as well, two years senior of Elsa. Huh. You think they got history?”

“Beats me.”

* * *

Maren has been fond of her evenings. Laying around the loft alone with her music and bowl of snacks, watching the last rays of late afternoons enter the windows of Elsa’s home—like a promise, Elsa would arrive right after, and Maren would call to her. _“Welcome home!”_

But the past few nights have been a little strange, as Maren would put it. _Like last night…_

_“Hey there!” Maren greeted Elsa, but she sensed something odd. Although Elsa nodded and smiled at her, she looked spaced out. She followed her around the dining area, the kitchen, and now the living room—yet still, Elsa stayed quiet. “Want me to put on Sky Fortress? I’ve been dying to watch it with you and it’s finally up on Flix!”_

_A moment passed until Elsa eventually answered. “Ah… later, okay? I’m a little tired.”_

_Later came and they sat together and watched, with Maren, out of habit, lying down on Elsa’s lap. “Uh oh, so they’re actually childhood friends,” Maren said, in an attempt to start a conversation with Elsa. She waited for a reply, an acknowledgment—anything, but no reaction came out of Elsa. She tried waving her hand in front of Elsa’s view, but not even that elicited a reaction._

_Maren sat up. “Elsa, are you feeling sick?” She asked, putting her palm on her forehead. Oh I get it, are you out of coffee? You didn’t make any ever since you got home.”_

_“Oh… I forgot.” Elsa answered in a daze, and Maren only stared. She left her alone and thought that maybe, a shock of sugar would wake Elsa’s senses up. Arriving at the kitchen, she tried her hand at baking muffins, which as expected, never ended well. The loud clangs of falling utensils had her cursing all over the place, summoning Elsa, who looked a little irritated at the sight. At the very least, Maren thought, she succeeded. She returned an apologetic smile._

Maren can’t help but wonder about what’s going on with Elsa. Even tonight, she’s late. She has an inkling of what it is, something that could relate to _him_ , but her brain refuses to entertain that thought any further. The seed has been planted, and now she’s annoyed at herself.

Fulfilling her wish for distractions, she hears the turn of a lock by the door, signifying Elsa’s arrival. For now, Maren will not overthink and just enjoy the night—

“I’m hooome~!”

 _Oh, God_. Maren climbs down her loft to greet Elsa, only to get crushed into a hug by the latter.

“Mareeen! Have youu been a goood giiirl, huuh? C’mere you cuuutiiie...”

“Argh, you reek of alcohol!” Maren squeaks, blushing at the excessive contact she’s receiving from Elsa. _She’s completely different!_ “You’re a mess— ow, too tight!” Elsa entangles all over her as they almost fall over. Maren catches both of them and tries to readjust herself so she can carry her to her bedroom. 

“Ugh, you sure are heavy,” Maren comments, now carrying her on her back.

“Come ooon… You’re a daancer aren’t yoouu?” Elsa teases, her head playfully rubbing against Maren’s. She must have removed her hair tie at some point earlier as her hair is now down, tickling Maren’s ear.

“I am not equipped with muscles to carry heavy things,” Maren says in a huff, flopping Elsa on her bed.

“Hnn… take off my heels, will you?”

“Yes, yes,” Maren complies, unstrapping them. “How about your suit?”

“Ooff it gooess!”

“Settle down, ma’am.”

Elsa chuckles. She huddles into her pillow and Maren takes it as a signal to leave when Elsa asks something from her.

“We can do it if you like, you know. I feeel goood tonight.”

Maren stares back. _She’s very, very drunk._

“…not tonight.”

“…hmm? Then when?” Elsa murmurs like a child.

“Let me see,” Maren kneels by her bedside. “How about… when you call me by my full name?”

“…full… name…? But your name… is Maren… right?” Elsa asks in small wonder, only to doze off to sleep.

 _Well, close enough._ Maren grabs a pack of makeup remover wipes, taking one as she dabs it on Elsa’s face. _Waiting isn’t so bad_. In these roles they both chose to play, Maren will do her part. A light snore comes out of Elsa, whose mouth is slightly open, and is that a drool she sees? A guardless Elsa she would have never pictured, a rare sight only seen by her at this moment in time.

_This role is too good to give up._

* * *

_What am I to you?_

Maren opens her eyes to the dimness of her loft. Realizing she must have fallen asleep for a short while, she grabs her phone beside her and checks the time. _10:48 pm._ She stares at the brightness of her phone, and it clicks on her that Elsa isn’t home yet. _It’s even later than last night._

She checks her notifications and sees a message from her. 

_**Elsa** : I’ll be home a little late tonight. There’s some salmon from the fridge for dinner, don’t wait for me._

Her phone still in hand, Maren rolls on her back, staring at the ceiling. She knows mulling over it won’t get her anywhere, so she sits up to turn on the loft’s lights when she hears the lock turn at the front door. The lights by the living room turn on and for a second she’s elated to greet Elsa when she hears voices. Elsa isn’t alone.

Maren can see Hans, who is right behind Elsa. She ducks down from the corner of her loft, in hopes to obscure herself from their sight.

“Are you okay?” Hans asks Elsa by the door.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that,” Elsa answers, as she enters the hallway. “Thanks for the ride,” she says while turning to Hans, and it seems she pauses before finally saying, “Have a good evening.”

Just when Maren felt ready to hop down from the loft and give Elsa her usual greetings, Hans stops the door Elsa was closing. Maren ducks down again.

“Wait,” Hans says in a quiet voice as he touches Elsa’s arm. “To be honest… I’ve been thinking about it all day. No, ever since the past week. I know... I’m not being impetuous with this. I tried to forget you.” Hans caresses Elsa’s cheek.

“Meeting you now after all those years… I feel like I can’t miss this chance again. I have to make you mine. Please, will you go out with me?”

 _No way._ Maren observes Elsa’s reaction, who has been looking back at Hans in silence. A moment passes before she sees Elsa’s nod. Hans chuckles, seeming content, and moves in to kiss her.

_Hold up, she didn’t even say ‘yes’!_

Yet, to Maren’s dismay, Elsa kisses Hans back. 

A sinking feeling settles in Maren’s stomach as she watches their kiss go deeper until finally, something snaps in her. Without hesitation, she covers her mouth with her hands and does the most ridiculous thing she can think of at that moment.

“Rrrwoof! Rrwoof!”

The pair separates from the kiss, the barks startling Elsa. It doesn’t stop Maren from making the sounds.

Elsa, in a slight panic, shrieks an order. “M-Momo! Please be quiet!” 

It stops Maren. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or worry about the aftermath of this situation. 

“I’m sorry, my new dog seems to be over-excited and she’s very aggressive around strangers so if you’ll excuse me for tonight…” Elsa huffs as she leads him outside.

“No worries… I’ll see you at work then, goodnight.”

Maren steels herself as she hears Elsa’s footsteps closing in. “You know, I wouldn’t mind you calling me that. It’s a cute name.” She says as she leans by her loft’s ladder.

“Are you being serious right now?”

“What? What was I supposed to do, you both were going at it and I could hear _and_ see everything! You kiss pretty loudly, you know,” Maren adds and she can see Elsa turn beet red from the comment.

“And that isn’t any of your business!” Elsa retorts, her voice loud and irritated.

It stings Maren.

“…right, it isn’t,” Maren says back then nods to herself. “I’ll go back to my corner and be a quiet, good girl then,” she says in sarcasm as she climbs up back to her loft.

Rolling on her side opposite the ladder, Maren attempts to sleep her feelings of agitation away but fails. In annoyance, she grabs her earphones from her bag and plugs it in her phone, hoping the music would distract her away from nagging thoughts and burdensome emotions.

She doesn’t notice how much time has passed since then, but she’s still awake enough to hear Elsa call to her.

“Maren? Are you still awake? I… I heated the salmon. I saw it was untouched.”

Maren doesn’t reply and increases the volume of her music. But it isn’t loud enough to cover the movement by the ladder.

“Maren, you can’t sleep with an empty stomach.”

She continues not to budge, even when her stomach growls in betrayal.

The movement gets closer and Maren tries her best to ignore it when she feels the enveloping of arms around her from behind. An embrace that has never left her mind, ever since that one late afternoon when she saw Elsa’s tears for the first time.

“I’m sorry. Come on, I’ll eat with you.” Elsa’s voice is gentle in her ears.

Maren’s heart could burst.

“…fine.” She says, feeling a little flushed. “I’ll be there.”

“Okay.” Elsa removes the embrace and sits up, making her way to the ladder. 

Maren already misses her. Rolling around, she calls out. “Hey.”

“Hmm?” Elsa looks up to her, hanging by the top of the ladder. Maren stares back, and there’s a lot of words she wants to say, questions she wants to ask. But she keeps them in her and she decides to wait. She doesn’t dare to search for something in Elsa’s eyes, because she doesn’t ever want to lose that embrace.

“Congratulations.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter feels like a milestone for me. Special thanks to my sister, AzimuthZero, and simplesnowflake who have been great soundboards for feedback in this chapter and the previous ones. I’m learning a lot as a writer thanks to this story.
> 
> Thank you for reading! I really appreciate your comments and kudos, so don’t hesitate to open discussions. I’m on Tumblr, Twitter and other socials under the same username.


	6. FOOL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 11th, 2020

**Verse 6**

_“It reminds me of a poem about a mountain and a queen. I can’t remember who wrote it, though.”_

_It was the first thing he had said to Elsa when she'd told him her name. She had known the author, but she had said nothing. Her awkward self at the time couldn’t picture the thought of driving his smile away, an unfamiliar feeling she hadn’t felt before._

_That late noon by the cafeteria, Hans Meyers stirred Elsa’s heart just the same._

_The word spread fast at work, but they never bothered hiding their familiarity with each other, at least from what one would expect in a pair of alumni friends._

_Even though Elsa knew they used to be good at it._

_The week of their reunion had been a series of catch-ups over dinners, though Elsa would sense it spring up in between casual notes. Gently, without touching, Hans would tread around the corners of her private life, and she would do the same._

_“Anna and I found a nice complex downtown, a two-floor one. I’ve been thinking about getting a dog too, but we’re barely at home and that would make things a little difficult.”_

_Elsa fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. “Oh… how about Katherine? How is she doing?”_

_Hans paused his eating. “A lot has happened since you moved here in the north. We called off the engagement. Right after she learned about it.”_

_They changed the conversation to a safer topic, not helping the questions that piled up in Elsa’s mind. But neither of them dared to bring it up again._

_It got late that night and Elsa downed a few drinks more than she should have, making her miss her step at the restaurant’s staircase, hurting her ankle. Hans offered to drive her home. When they arrived in her neighborhood, he assisted her on the way to her apartment._

_“Don’t be silly, it’s gotten really dark. I’m glad you didn’t hit your head.” Hans' arm wrapped around her shoulder, almost lingering. “You seem so together, but at times you can be so clumsy. It’s not like you’re unfit. Remember when you got lost in the lake resort?” He chuckled. “You were shy and quiet. You don’t seem to have changed much.”_

_A flush colored Elsa’s cheeks. “Um, you can stop now, thank you.” She glanced at Hans and caught the glint in his smiling eyes._

_They arrived at her door. The night was over and Elsa’s heart twinged once more._

_“Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, I’m really sorry about that,” Elsa entered her hallway. “Thanks for the ride.” She could barely look into his gaze. “Have a good evening.”_

_“Wait.”_

_His hand stopped her closing of the door, and in a blink of an eye, he made his way in._

_“To be honest… I’ve been thinking about it all day.”_

* * *

“You know, I’m amazed. You, a top Trom graduate, comes up with one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever heard.” Punz pets her dog, a small and grey poodle that fits right on her lap.

Elsa sighs as she vacuums her carpet. “It’s all I could come up with. He insisted on meeting… Momo.” With the last note, Elsa swerves the vacuum’s direction towards Maren, who went to grab a bag of chips from the pantry.

“Fu— stop!” Maren squeaks as she darts from the vacuum’s noise and hops on the sofa.

“Tsk.”

“Uh, I need to get my bag at the loft…”

“No one’s stopping you.”

“Stop chasing me with that thing!”

“What are you talking about, I wasn’t.”

“I swear…” Maren chortles. “I’m flushing all your coffee beans down the toilet.”

Elsa turns off her vacuum. “I dare you.” She glares at Maren who’s trying hard to keep a straight face, ready to dash off at any minute. _Brat._

Not even a second later and Maren bounces off. Elsa whirls the vacuum back to life and glides it towards the brunette, who’s already by the foot of the ladder, making her way up. She smiles at the giggles that she can still hear from atop.

“Well, aren’t you guys just fun to watch.” Punz chimes. “Anyway, I’m happy for you, really. Who would’ve thought you'd actually get together with him after all these years? No offense, but it’s a hell of an upgrade from Nils.”

Elsa sets the vacuum aside and grabs the seat in front of Punz. She pours herself a cup of black coffee, absorbing its warmth in her palms. “I know, it’s going to be a breath of fresh air. I’m sick of men with an inferiority complex.”

“Ha! Hans does fulfill the Three Highs.” 

“Three Highs?”

“High in salary, height, and academic background— relative to your standards of course,” Punz recites in jest. It makes Elsa snort.

“I guess it’s about time I raised the bar.” _You can’t take away pride from people, after all._

“Mhm.” Punz plays with the rim of her cup, her eyes tracking Maren as she enters the bathroom. She leans forward towards Elsa to whisper. “And here I thought you batted for the other team and shacked with Maren.”

Elsa gulps a little too much of her coffee, stinging her throat. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she answers in a quiet voice.

“I’m just saying. I’ve never seen you so… you two just get along so well.”

“She’s just a good friend.” Elsa fiddles with the end of her braid. She watches the poodle on Punz’s lap awaken, her round black eyes peering at her surroundings. “Besides, it’s impossible. She technically works under me. Living together is already a risk.” Elsa reaches for the glass coffee pot and pours herself another cup. “And even if she didn’t, our worlds are too different. And... she’s six years younger. I’m not into younger… women.”

“Hm, alright. You do have a new darling now.” Punz lifts the refilled cup of green tea to her lips and murmurs into it. “…and Maren’s pretty occupied too, anyway…”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

The sound of the bathroom’s sliding door opening breaks their conversation, reminding Elsa to check the time. _12:43 pm._ “He should be here anytime soon. Don’t you guys have a train to catch?”

“You’re kicking us out already? Harsh!” Maren’s dramatic comment sets off a laugh from Punz and an eye roll from Elsa.

Elsa guides them to the door. “Go on, off you go.”

“Okay, okay—”

As the door opens, the pair almost walk into the figure at the doorstep.

Hans recognizes the two. “Oh! Nice to see you, Honeymare—”

“Likewise, it’s been a while! Uh, we were uh, just visiting.” 

Elsa notices Maren glance sideways at Punz, who suddenly straightens.

“Right! Nice to meet you, I’m Punz, Elsa’s cousin. Congrats on getting together,” Punz shakes his hand with a smile.

Hans chuckles. “Oh, thank you. I must have arrived too early.”

“No, no, it’s okay, we were just leaving. And we’re in a rush, so see you around and enjoy your day!”

Elsa welcomes Hans into her home with casual greetings, her mind still registering the exchange she witnessed between the three.

_Honeymaren._

* * *

Momo’s sharp barks reverberate in the apartment as she runs around the living room, her grey curls bouncing with every gallop. 

Hans kneels to reach for one of the toys scattered across the floor. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing? She does bark quite loud like last time.”

“Ah, yeah, she does.” Elsa puts away their trays of snacks and joins the two. “I’m sorry, she’s pretty excited.”

“It’s okay, it’s normal,” Hans reaches over to pick up Momo, who is wriggling and barking in his hold. “Who’s an excited little girl?” He lifts her in the air, not foreseeing her sudden shift to calm and the golden tinkle that sprayed right at the center of his shirt.

Elsa watches in horror. _Oh my God_. “Momo! Oh, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine—”

“You can use the shower, I-I’ll get a spare shirt,” Elsa shoots up, thanking herself for being big on over-sized shirts.

The day couldn’t get any more awkward. Hans is sitting on her sofa, shower-fresh, now donning the shirt she gave him. It flusters Elsa. They haven’t been intimate in years and the simple act of sitting next to him rattles her nerves. The memory of their last time has faded, but its imprints have been dusted away by their reunion.

Exasperated with herself, she walks towards the shelf and pretends to look for a book when she feels the enveloping of arms around her.

“Momo’s asleep,” Hans breathes into Elsa’s ear and her heart almost stops. Carefully, he turns her around and leans down for a kiss. 

_Rrrriiiinng! Rrrriiiinng!_

The shrill tone of her phone echoes in the room. Momo startles awake with barks.

“Sorry, I have to take it.”

“It’s fine, go ahead.” Hans walks back to the sofa to comfort the agitated poodle.

Elsa grabs her phone and sees the caller’s ID. _Maren._ She moves into the kitchen before answering the call.

_“Hello, this is the national association of pets—”_

“Did you need anything?” Elsa’s voice is low, and somehow she’s more nervous than minutes ago.

_“Oh nothing much, just wanted to let you know that I’ll be home soon. And I have some great news!”_

“Okay… but couldn’t you have just texted that?”

 _“Ouch. Anyway, see you soon!”_ The call ends in a prompt, leaving Elsa in a daze.

Hans’ voice pulls her out of her thoughts. “Time sure flies, I have to leave for an appointment.”

“Oh. For your freelance business?”

“Yeah. The hustle never ends.” Hans ruffles Momo, who has grown familiar with him, before walking towards the door. “I’m sorry today was rushed.”

“No, I should apologize for the mess. I’ll see you later.”

Elsa closes the door and lets out a breath of relief she didn’t know she was holding in. She heads back inside to clean up and sees Momo walking around. Crouching down, Elsa’s fingers brush through Momo’s fur, kneading through a wave of nostalgia that tugs at her heartstrings. Momo's thick curls are different from the softness of Marshmallow’s lush fur, but her sprightliness reminds her of the latter’s younger years. _Thanks for today, buddy._

She hears bustling from the hallway moments later.

“Oh, hey. How was—” 

Maren embraces Elsa from behind, almost making them tumble on the floor.

“It was awesome. But the most awesome part is I can finally hog you alone by myself!”

Elsa snickers. _Why is she being such a brat?_ They both lean back by the foot of the sofa in warm comfort. The citrus scent that she bought for Maren trickles down her senses, sifting away the weariness she hasn't noticed until now.

"So what's this great news you're dying to tell me?"

"Oh, right! Ahtohallan is finally having its first open house, meaning we're holding a series of performances. So…"

"I'll come."

"Really!?"

"Yeah, let me check my schedule," Elsa reaches for her phone at the table. "Which date?"

"Punz hasn't locked it down yet, but it should be in a few weeks."

"Alright, just remind me."

Elsa feels Maren's head on her shoulder. She gazes at her cooing gestures towards her temporary grey fluff of a replacement.

"Mhm. I’ll work hard."

* * *

Corona High’s teacher lounges are not that spacious. They are spread throughout the departments, looking similar to one another with their kitchens, dining sets, and open-spaced sections filled with projectors and armchairs. Outside of meetings and breaks, the staff crowds them most during lunchtime.

Elsa can barely stand staying in one. She usually packs herself a sandwich to have a swift lunch, but more so to evade the stiff air that seems to surround her whenever she meets with coworkers outside of a work schedule. It’s either the dry conversations or the senseless gossip that she can’t do anything about, lest she ends up being the center of attraction, which wouldn’t be the first time to happen.

Going out with Hans has been a give and take in the situation. No one questioned them too hard, what with both of them being esteemed coordinators who do their jobs beyond well. She has heard the phrases “college sweethearts” and “too perfect of a couple” thrown around, and Hans’s vibrant presence would deflect them with a carefree demeanor. His patience with people and easygoing nature has always made him popular.

Today they’re having a late lunch, and a topic springs up that catches Elsa off guard.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Honeymaren too. She goes by ‘Maren’ now?”

“Mhm.” Elsa bites into her salad wrap.

“She and Anna are close friends; they attended the same college back in Copenhamn. She was pretty popular in performances, I actually met her through one when they performed together in modern dance.” Hans pulls out his phone. “Let me see, I know Anna has an album of it online… Ah! Here it is.”

Elsa reaches for the phone and sees a grid of dramatic shots taken from various performances, showing silhouettes of different colors backdropped by a dark lit stage. She switches to a slide-show view and continues to browse, noticing the grace of a strawberry-blonde girl who stands out in the center of a group. “Anna sure has grown up. She looks great here.”

“She was the lead of the show. Honeymaren was her partner.”

As if summoning her, Elsa lands on a picture of a younger Maren, curled downwards on the floor as if she was gravity herself. She swipes through more images, each of them captured in magnificent poise, pulling Elsa in. She arrives at the last picture and it stuns her.

Maren is in the air lunging upwards, her shorter hair loose from the long braid, thrown back as she faces the light. Her arms are spread out, bare of the tattoos Elsa has grown familiar with. Elsa has never seen her this elegant, intensified by her leap with her left leg stretching backward—hoisted with a vigor that she knows Maren can only possess.

“She looks…”

“Incredible, right?”

_Majestic. Like a hawk._

“Yeah.”

“It’s great she’s pursuing it now. Anna told me about some troubles with her family.”

Elsa recalls Maren’s words during one late afternoon. _“I didn’t want to help run the business, so I left home.”_

The day passes by, and Elsa agrees to have a customary dinner with Hans. The outings have become more frequent since they got together, but she senses the distance of the years they have missed, with the gaps in their interests wider than she presumed. He likes to talk about his old travels, his side business, and the clients he meets, which consumes much of his time outside of work.

It’s tiring to pull off a good face all night, but Elsa doesn’t want to let him down. She's itching to redo her lipstick, wipe the oil off her nose, and fix everything else in the ladies’ room.

Elsa’s mind is pulled back to Maren, zoning out Hans’ voice as they eat. She wants to take off her makeup, shoes, and stockings, and run her fingers through the tangles of Maren’s wavy locks as they binge a show from their list.

_Is it okay to be thinking of this now?_

Elsa excuses herself to the ladies’ room. It’s always the same, more so with the people she likes. The stress engulfs her, and she always has to give it her best shot, tiring her out twice as much.

They leave the restaurant and enter the city night with a chill in the air. The cold never bothered Elsa, but right now she yearns for warmth.

“You must be cold.”

If Elsa says “yes”, she’s certain Hans would hold her. “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

Her answer falls on deaf ears as Hans removes his coat and wraps it around her shoulders. “You don’t have to be so tough. Not in front of me.”

Does she deserve his kindness? Is she worth it? The more Elsa thinks about it, the more she wants to run away. She wants to trample the acts and expectations, to let him in and take his warmth, but her walls refuse to fall.

She arrives home exhausted, not long after greeted by Maren.

“You tired?”

Elsa flops on the sofa. “Yeah, a little.”

“Do not fret.” Maren pulls out something from behind. “Tada! I prepped your favorite Mr. Sheep-Eye-Cooler for you!”

“Oh!” Elsa takes the eye cooler and puts it on, relaxing her head in bliss. “Ah, this is heaven.”

“Elsa, you’re drooling.”

“Did you have dinner?”

“Nope.”

Elsa sits up, peeling off the eye cooler. “Why didn’t you get takeout?”

“Wasn’t in the mood, and I’m sick of it.”

“What am I gonna do with you…” In a beat, Elsa is at the stove frying something quick, the whiff of roasted garlic, white rice, broccoli, and juicy prawns permeating the kitchen. 

Maren digs into her bowl. Her glee radiates across the table, kindling a glow of contentment within Elsa’s chest.

“Something good happened?”

“Huh?”

“You’re smiling.”

“Oh.” Elsa blushes. “You look so happy while eating, it got to me.”

“Well,” Maren insinuates as she plays with her spoon, “you can be with me all the time then. I’m happy twenty-four-seven, all year round.”

“I don’t think any sane person would like that. I wouldn't want it transferred to me.”

“Now you’re just being mean!”

_So why is it that I never feel tired with Maren by my side?_

* * *

“Oaken’s Resort?”

“Yeah, it’s been around for a few years now, but they got pretty famous recently with their new renovations and shops.” Hans drops two sugar cubes into his latte. “The restaurant is the biggest attraction. Apparently, their customer service is top-notch. They have a pool, a spa, and they even allow pets too.”

“Oh, wow.”

Hans chuckles. “Wow? I’m subtly inviting you.”

“Oh.” Elsa sips her cup of black coffee.

“How about it? Let’s plan it with your schedule.”

A weekend holiday. It’s been a while since Elsa’s last trip, so she ends up agreeing.

When she arrives home, she takes a while to let Maren know.

"By the way—" Elsa and Maren blurt simultaneously.

Maren grins, eyes twinkling. "Oh, you can go ahead."

Elsa wears her apron, preparing a casserole. “I’ll be out the weekend after next week.”

“Oh… The seventh and eighth?”

“Yeah. You have any plans?”

“Hm… Nope.” Maren turns on the PS4 with her controller. “Where you goin’?”

 _A one night holiday with my boyfriend_. Somehow, it’s awkward to say it to Maren. “Just a formal get-together with some distant relatives.”

Maren smiles. “Okay. I’ll be chilling around.”

“So, you were going to say something?”

“Oh, nah, nothing important.”

Elsa watches Maren turn around to the TV. Somehow, the sight of Maren’s back twinges her chest.

* * *

Elsa is meticulous with packing. The anxiety of forgetting something never sits well with her so she ends up spending too much time on it before any trip. The weekend get-away with Hans is only for two days and one night, but here she is, sitting on her bed as she wonders for the umpteenth time which lingerie she should bring. _God, Elsa._

She opens one of her drawers and looks at her large blue zipper pouch in the corner she has personally dubbed as The Absolute Essentials. The contents comprise paraphernalia in sky blue and white colors. It’s a collection of cutesy skincare products, toiletries, and even soft cottoned socks and a white robe. She orders them online from Nippon, a ritual of self-treatment she has been maintaining ever since she visited the mainland on the other side of the world.

Elsa shuts the drawer when she remembers that she’ll be in the same room with Hans. _I won’t die without them for a day._

“Don’t forget emergency snacks.”

Elsa’s heart almost drops. “Wh— can you not sneak on me like that?”

“What do we have here?” Maren quips as she looks at Elsa’s suitcase. “You look like you’re going on an excursion. Been a while since you last saw your folks?”

“Y-yeah.”

Maren sits on the bed cross-legged. “If you had to choose three items to bring to a deserted island, what would you take?”

“Deserted island?”

“Yeah. I was skimming through the syllabus out of boredom and it’s a class activity.”

“I wonder…” Elsa pauses her folding with an earnest look. “A lighter is a given, and since technology wouldn't be much of a use, I guess I’d bring some books with me…” 

Elsa gives it more thought when she feels the poking on her knee. She faces Maren, greeted by a mischievous smile, and it clicks. “I’m not bringing you with me.”

Maren’s scowls. “Wh— How rude!”

“You? At a deserted island? I suppose you wouldn’t get lost _there_.”

“Please. Don’t regret it when you cry from loneliness.”

“As if I would.”

_Something I can't live without for a day... I wonder what that might be._

* * *

_**Rapunzel** : I’m stopping by your place. Maren hurt her ankle_

Worry descends on Elsa, her fingers flying across the screen.

_**Elsa** : Is she okay??_

_**Rapunzel** : Yea, no worries! She just twisted it a lil too hard during a rehearsal. She just needs some rest_

Elsa distracts herself with menial chores in the apartment until the two arrive.

Punz drops Maren off, apologizing for running to attend errands for her stepmother. “Get your rest and keep me updated, okay?”

Maren stumbles every few steps, her right ankle bandaged.

“Should we have it checked?”

“Hm, maybe… I might go if you come with me tomorrow.”

“T-tomorrow?”

“Just kidding.” Maren swings her leg around. “I think it’ll be fine with a night’s rest. Don’t worry, I’ll stay still at home.”

The next morning, Elsa meets with Hans by a café. It takes them two hours to drive to Oaken's. They check into the hotel, one of the slick grey buildings that surround the area, before they head into the cluster of wooden cottages where most tourists gather. The aroma of roasted barbeque, chorizo, and grilled trouts greet them as they walk around looking for a place to eat, but Elsa’s appetite won’t come to her.

She sends a message to Maren.

_**Elsa** : How are you? Does your ankle still hurt?_

“Pretty great, isn’t it?” Hans dips his bread in olive oil.

Elsa grabs a piece of bread and peeks at her notifications. Nothing from Maren.

They walk around more after eating, stumbling upon a street of tiny antique shops of different kinds. From ancient fans to jars and pots of various forms and sizes, they are stacked outside by entrances, ready for visitors to ogle. Mixed in with the region’s souvenirs are special imports curated by Oaken’s company, a tradition preserved from the owner’s history with trading that dates back centuries.

The pair walk into a shop filled with wooden animal sculptures, carved in larger than life detail. Miniature leopards of different postures fill the shelves, and life-sized deer heads hang the walls, the life in each work filled to the brim. 

Elsa stops by the bird section. Her eyes hop from one to another, fascinated by the colors imbued in their feathers. From the parrots, sparrows, and the hummingbirds, she can only imagine the love poured into each carve. She reaches the end of the section when something catches her eye and stops her tracks.

A large hawk coated in shades of dark brown is suspended by the ceiling, depicted in its hunting stance. Its proud wings sprawl in the air, claws ready to grasp its prey.

It’s almost identical to Maren’s tattoo.

_“So whatcha think?”_

_“Hm?” Elsa rubbed orange gel between her palms and proceeded to massage Maren’s scalp._

_“Usually, people get a little curious over my back. You’ve seen it a couple of times by this point.”_

_Of course, Elsa had noticed. She’d seen the drape of wings that wrapped Maren’s arms on the night she found her. The rest of the hawk’s body had been revealed to her when she had vented her pent up emotions over work for the first time to anyone. It was a cloak of feathered body and tail that hugged the taut muscles of Maren’s back._

_“I think it’s remarkable. Did it hurt a lot?”_

_“A bit.”_

_Elsa hesitated to ask more._

_“It hurt, but I felt reborn. Kinda corny, I know. But it’s like, finally being comfortable in your own skin. I feel like I can do anything. I feel like myself.”_

_“No, I get it.” Elsa knew that tattoos can be personal. An intimate look into a person’s soul she didn’t want to breach._

_Maren had let her in, and it elated her._

Elsa’s nerves are killing her. At this point, Maren hasn’t answered a single message she sent throughout the past few hours. She excuses herself from Hans and walks outside to make a call.

Maren isn’t answering on any messenger. She tries again and the answering machine activates.

“I wonder if these black flakes are truffles. What do you think, Elsa?”

“Oh, what about the traffic?” Elsa’s head snaps up from her plate of dessert, which has become the object of her distraction for the past thirty minutes. And how is it dinner time already?

Hans shoots her an amused look. “Are you tired? Maybe we should go back to our room and get some rest?”

A thought occurs to Elsa. “I’m sorry, I just need to make a call.”

She dials Punz in as she wanders by the restaurant’s exit. _Please pick up._

_“—Hey Els—”_

“Punz, sorry to disturb you if you’re busy. Did you talk to Maren today?”

_“—S—sorry, just need to m—ve somewhere— okay! What’s up?”_

Elsa calms her jitters. “Have you talked to Maren?”

_“Oh! Yeah, I mean, we’ve been together all day, it’s our first open house! Maren insisted she’s well enough to perform. She told me you were going to come! I was so busy the whole week just so I could have today locked and I was sure she pestered you. You’re out of the city?”_

Elsa hears the cheers of the crowd and the loud dance music in the background. “Y-yeah, I am, I’m sorry.”

_“No worries, girl! We still have more planned later!”_

It doesn’t stop the harrowing feeling in Elsa’s stomach.

She bids goodbye to Punz and she knows the next thing to do. Without hesitation, she talks to Hans and tells him an incident about Momo and other things she conjures at the moment. A lie that doesn’t come close to the contempt she feels for herself, seeded by that time she gazed at Maren’s back last week.

Elsa arrives home late that night, her apartment empty. She receives a text from Punz, who once again drops Maren off on the way home.

Maren enters the stillness of the living room. “You’re back already?”

Their eyes meet. “It was today.”

Hissing from a step, Maren quietly replies, “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I compromised with the moves.”

“But it looks like it still hurts,” Elsa mutters as she moves closer to Maren, her chest pricking with each step.

“Hm, yeah, a little.” Maren grabs a seat by the dining room, her gaze fixed on her foot as she gingerly rotates it. “But it was my fault for getting hurt in the first place. A pro needs to own up her mistakes.”

Overcome with a myriad of emotions, Elsa wraps her arms around Maren. “I’m so sorry.” 

She tightens her embrace, afraid to face Maren's own walls. Afraid of being locked out forever.

As if her pleas were heard, Elsa feels Maren's arms around her, and she is forgiven.

“Hey, it’s okay. There’s always a next time.”

_If I ever go to a deserted island, I promise to take you with me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to simplesnowflake and Hydroxide for helping me polish this chapter. You guys rock.


	7. Stay With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 13th, 2020

**Verse 7**

_ Four beats, make it to the second slide, switch it to two beats, and then leap.  _ She pictures an apparition, dispersing it through her fingertips, pulling the strings that give life to the verse of her soul.

Maren finds herself.

But it's never enough. She leads herself to the succor of others, attaching to their strings, reveling in their aria until they become one in chorus.

Yet it lingers—the monster of expectations that threaten to devour her in each step she takes.

All it takes is one slip and she'll be left behind.

So she works harder, pushing through each jump and polishing every turn. She is grateful to the promised cadence and clings to it like a lifeline. No matter the outcome, she takes a chance to see beyond that reverie she yearns for.

Out of everyone, only Anna has led her to euphoric synchrony.

Anna seemed sporadic when they first met, bearing a clumsiness you’d never expect from an adept performer. She was eighteen when Maren entered her orbit. Quirky, bright, and always wearing an alluring smile—she was like the sun, with energy that assured Maren's own, both on and off the dance floor.

Time after time, it pulls in Maren. And like a vow, Anna would meet her.

Where was she again?  _ Half beat... no, quarter beat...? Then, lift here. _ She dives further, savoring the familiar tang of sweet strawberry, enrapturing her as always. Anna welcomes her in, their tongues colliding in soft harmony. She feels quivering lips as she caresses behind Anna's ear.

A small whine hums through Maren's senses as she bites the plump of Anna's lower lip.

Anna curls, the tremor of her core thrumming under Maren's touch. "Let's get out of here." She looks at Maren, eyes dilated.

Teal orbs that Maren used to never run away from. She almost gives into them.

Yet once more, they hold her back. Platinum wisps that touch the smile of her eyes, affectionate fingers that would comb away her worries, vanilla trails that remind her she has a home; pieces of Elsa she has tucked away, enclosed in the corner of her heart. She would always be there, beckoning her over, enough to make her ache.

“I can’t. I’m broke.”

“I can pay.”

Maren inches away, untangling herself from Anna’s arms. “I can’t be home too late.”

“...What?”

“I don’t want to worry her.” Maren leans back by the staircase of an alley they’ve been occupying for the past hour. The ground is cold underneath her palm.

Anna stares back at her, broken away from their moment. She knows.

“Maren,” Anna hisses in a strained voice, “my brother is dating Elsa.”

“I know.”

“Then what the hell are you doing?”

Maren sighs. She wants to run again, back home into those arms, away from this cruelty that suffocates her. “I can go with you, but only for thirty minutes. Or should I just do you here, right now? While nobody’s arou—”

It’s too late for her to dodge it. The hard leather bottom of her backpack scrapes her cheek, not enough to draw blood, but it still stings.

Anna stands up. “You’re a fucking jerk.” 

Maren catches the suspended tears in Anna's eyes before she sees her pace down the stairs. Her silhouette drowns in the street crowd, her every step leaving Maren rooted in place.

* * *

Even when Elsa is not around, she can sometimes feel it: Elsa’s fingers running through her hair as stories about the daily mundane lull her away in comfort. She wonders how long she can keep that happiness to herself. The uncertainty of it continues to grow, wrapping around her heart.

And so Maren continues to dance.

"Anna's pissed at you, huh."

“Mhm.” Maren bends forward, stretching her right leg. She peeks sideways at her fellow dancer.

With a lanky build bearing a few inches taller than her, Ryder is popular for his pretty face and charisma, framed by his dark shaggy hair kept in place by a beanie he’s never seen without. People often mistook them for siblings, with their shared physical features and their hometown, where their families live a few blocks apart from each other in the southern part of North Uldra. He has become like a younger brother to her in the past few months, with his playful and somewhat clingy nature touching her soft spot.

"I don’t get it, why don’t you just say no to her advances?"

Maren stretches her other leg. “I don’t have it in me. And she doesn’t get it. We can keep up what we have, but nothing more than that.”  _ I mean, we already tried it. _ “I can’t give her the extent of what she wants.”

"Uhuh.” Ryder leans back on the wall mirror. “Then, what about that lady you live with?"

Maren relaxes from stretching. "How much did Anna tell you?"

"Well, she kinda bitched about you just being an overall jerk, but not much else. And you’re still staying with that nice lady who took you in months ago. I just pieced the two together.” Ryder sits beside her and stretches.

Maren snickers. “I’m not dating my roommate if that’s what you’re wondering. We’re...”  _ Friends? Acquaintances? _ She’s given up putting a label on whatever she has with Elsa.

Besides, the one she craves remains out of reach.

“I don’t really know how to word it… but I’m her tranquilizer.”

* * *

Maren has always been an early riser. On the weekends, she’s up as early as seven. She would go to the bathroom, drink some water in the kitchen, jog for an hour around their neighborhood, and do her light stretching back at her loft before returning under her covers. 

Then Elsa wakes up.

Maren listens to her get ready, preparing their brunch for the day, its scent filling the apartment. She pretends to be asleep as she hears Elsa call her name from below, sometimes accompanied with a sigh, which makes her smile because she knows what comes next: Elsa’s footsteps coming closer as she hears her climb up, crawling to Maren's side, waking her up one more time. Maren would feel Elsa’s fingertips brush away her messy fringe, tickling her heart, completing the start of her day.

Today, she doesn’t go to practice.

“Is this okay?” Elsa pushes one of her sofas towards the wall, making more space for Maren’s mat.

“Yeah, it’s great, thanks.” Maren stretches both her legs until they make a perfect split, then bends her body forward, her chest touching the floor. She can feel Elsa’s eyes on her back.

“You sure are flexible.”

Maren rises and grins. “I’d be in trouble if I wasn’t.”

Skipping sessions is acceptable if you have committed to attending later on with the extra lessons. Maren tries to avoid this to not pile them up and burn herself out, but for today, she wants to avoid something else. Or rather, a certain someone.  _ Coward. _

Before she chastises herself further, she tunes into the noise from the TV instead.

_ “Continuing the ongoing mission to supply provisions for the Southern States that suffered from Hurricane Gale, the Ministry of Education, on behalf of the Northern States, has presented supplementary reading and classroom materials, held on a special event in Puerto Lobos. Attendees comprise almost a hundred, including teachers and principals from public schools around the area alongside representatives from the Ministry, including Deputy Secretary Edward Tremaine.” _

The report seems to have caught Elsa’s attention, who has placed her duster down to increase the volume. A well-dressed bearded man in his fifties is now in focus, with his brown and grey locks gelled in place.

_ “‘We’re proud of our commitment and shared goal to keep this project running, and to further improve the quality of education for all children not just in Puerto Lobos, but for nearby islands as well.’ Secretary Edward has raised almost 120 million crowns for the project…” _

“They better spend it on the right things,” Elsa quips as she returns to her dusting.

“Not impressed?”

“Hard to be, especially when you’ve been groped by the deputy secretary himself.”

Maren almost falls from her side planking. “W-what!? How? Where? When?” She gives up and sits upright, sudden annoyance building up inside of her.

Elsa sighs. “I met him at a conference four years ago, right when I just started working. I was networking around during the after-party. He was a bit drunk, I guess. We were at a table sitting together, then he reached around and I jumped up.”

“And?” Maren stands up and follows Elsa to the kitchen area.

“He kept insisting he just touched my back, so I replied, a little loudly, that he was touching my ass instead.”

“Oh my God.”

“And, that was apparently not enough to stop him.” Elsa grabs a spray bottle from the cupboard and fills it with water. “He was about to push himself on me, so, well, I punched him before he could.”

“No way.”

“They were desperate to keep me quiet. They even offered monetary compensation. I couldn’t be bothered at the time, so I just kept quiet.” Elsa walks over to the kitchen counter, where two small pots of sweet violets sit. “Your brows are gonna join into one.”

“Wh— I’m pissed! I can’t believe they asked you to keep quiet!”

“There’s nothing I can do about it. He’s not just some deputy secretary, he’s a Tremaine, and that could mean years of involvement in a case over a small incident.”

_ You were harassed! _ “But—” 

“I can handle myself. Anyway, what do you want for dinner?”

“Uh... I’m good with anything.” Maren watches Elsa water the pots’ soil with care. She’s gotten a hold of Elsa’s mood on whether she wants to keep a topic going or not, which can go sour if she steps too far. She plays along, noticing the distant look Elsa is holding towards the tiny buds of sweet violets.

* * *

The next morning, Elsa wakes up from a bad dream. Or at least that’s what Maren assumes. It’s usually the case when the first thing she sees is her scrunched up face, lost in thought while turning the coffee machine on.

“Didn’t sleep well?”

“Hardly.” Elsa takes a sip before continuing. “I… dreamt about Nils.”

“Ah, the ex. Don’t worry, that’s just your brain fucking with you, it’s more common than you think.”

Nils works in their IT department. Or used to, with his departure mentioned at work last week. Elsa told Maren the story of how she’d met Nils a few years ago, a random click she hadn’t expected to happen over an after-work dinner that had revolved around conspiracy theories. The relationship seemed to work, even when Elsa was aware of Nils’ inferiority complex not dissipating over the years. Or so Elsa thought before Nils came clean to her about his infidelity on the night she expected to receive a proposal.

During their time of living together for three months, Maren has seen these glimpses of Elsa’s past. She wonders if Elsa is the same as her; someone who has a hard time letting go and is only ever good at running away.

Wanting to cheer Elsa up, Maren digs into the kitchen drawers.

“What are you looking for?”

“Oh, this pack of jasmine tea I got as a gift from the studio. I’ve never had it before… aha!” Maren picks up a yellow tin box with intricate designs of orange flowers and Eastern characters. “I think this is, uh, traditional, so I don’t really know how to prepare it?”

“It’s easy.” Elsa prepares two mugs and a pitcher of boiling water. “It should blossom into a little flower.” She puts a jasmine flower in a mug and pours the water in it.

Maren watches over, seeing the petals unveil themselves, one by one. “Oh, there it goes!”

“It’s quite slow, but it’s lovely, isn’t it?” Elsa smiles as she prepares the other mug, giving it to Maren.

They relax in their seats, enjoying the aroma of sweetness and floral scent enveloping them.

It takes a moment for Maren to notice that Elsa has been staring at her. She doesn’t get her chance to ask as Elsa goes back to her drink in an instant, but she’s not sure if it’s the intoxicating scent that caused Elsa’s cheeks to color in the shade of roses.

* * *

Elsa isn’t an alcoholic, but there are a few nights when she does drink a lot, and it’s when Maren knows that Elsa’s desperate to let go of things weighing on her mind. Maren doesn’t drink at all, and the sentiment of forgetting through alcohol is lost on her. She’s seen old friends and past flings inhale drinks to  _ prove _ it works for them, but she’d never dare to leave herself in such a vulnerable state.

Loud clangs in the hallway interrupt Maren’s thoughts.

It’s a late Friday night so she knows what to expect. Tonight, however, Elsa is more wasted than usual, huddled up on the floor when Maren meets her.

“Hey, you okay?”

“…hnn… toilet…”

“Wait, your heels—” Maren follows Elsa, who has stood up, stumbling towards the bathroom. Inside, she watches her kneel in front of the toilet bowl, retching out whatever she had that day.

Elsa’s hair bun loosens after the third heaving, and Maren walks over to sweep aside her hair, holding it back as she rubs circular motions on Elsa’s back.

“I’ll help you to bed, you should get some rest.”

“I… want to take a bath…”

“I don’t think you should—”

“I want to clean up!” Elsa starts taking off her suit, then her polo shirt, prompting Maren to step out.

Feeling worried as Elsa can barely stand, Maren sticks around outside the sliding door, leaning against the opposite wall as she listens to the running water and Elsa’s movements.

Maren was right. It only takes a few minutes until she hears a loud thud.

She rushes off to collect towels and heads inside, seeing Elsa’s naked body curled up inside the tub, shivering. She turns off the shower and dries Elsa off, wondering where she will carry her until she remembers the large Tyrian purple blanket in the living room, the same one she woke up in on the first morning she spent in Elsa’s home.

After spreading the blanket on the sofa, Maren returns to the bathroom and carries Elsa out of the tub, steeling her mind from the softness of her milky white skin under her touch. She tightens her grip, afraid of her smaller build giving out, though in tender closeness as she hears Elsa’s fatigued murmurs. She wonders for a moment if Elsa is awake enough to feel the drumming of her chest.

Maren lays Elsa down on the sofa and wraps her in the blanket, checking her head for any injury. Her eyes flutter awake.

“How many fingers can you see?”

“Two…”

“Good.” Maren caresses the side of Elsa’s head. “I think you have a small lump.”

“…You know, it’s not like I’ve always been good at cooking.”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t want people to think I just focused on work and studying. That… I can also do different things. I wasn’t just one thing they labeled me with. To be honest, I was desperate.”

Maren sits on the floor by Elsa’s side.

“Maren?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever hate and envy other people?”

“Well…” Maren readjusts her position. “…of course. Especially when I’m judged because of where I come from. And I can’t help but be jealous of people who have more than me, in talent, money, or whatever.

“It can’t be helped with the world we live in, but I like to think that people like that have their own problems to deal with too. You can’t change things out of your control, especially with envy or hatred. In the end, it’s all about fighting with yourself… right?”

Elsa turns towards her direction, still laying on her back, but now with eyes closed.

“Are you asleep? You’ll catch a cold if we don’t get you to bed—”

"Perhaps I should just… live with you for the rest of my life…"

Elsa says the words like an honest declaration, with a face of serenity that puts Maren in a stupor.

Maren does the only thing she can think of doing next.

She moves in and puts her lips on Elsa’s.

Elsa doesn’t reject her.

It’s like that jasmine flower. Softening and opening as each petal unveils itself, one by one. Let time stand still, and let this be the only thing that Maren feels.

But Maren knows she can’t have that wish. She’s not surprised when Elsa abruptly pushes her back and stands up. She can see the rose tint on Elsa’s cheeks, spreading out to the tip of her ear.

“I… I need sleep.”

Maren watches as Elsa walks to her room, dragging the blanket wrapped around her. The bedroom door is already closed when Maren notices the ends of the blanket trapped under it.

She walks over. Maren can feel Elsa standing on the other side of the door, her warmth and doubt penetrating the distance. A few minutes pass and neither of them moves from their spot. Maren waits for Elsa’s decision, though she wonders if she should open the door and make the decision herself.

In the end, she doesn’t, and they continue the dance around this moratorium.

* * *

The next weekend, Maren answers the door to find Nils on their doorstep.

Nils is an awkward guy of short and lean stature, around Maren’s height. He’s not bad-looking by any means, with his dirty blonde hair parted in the middle framing his square-shaped face that is always seen with thick-rimmed glasses. But Maren can understand how his inferiority complex shows, not from his appearance, but by the way he carries himself in public.

Maren isn’t sure how to handle this, so she goes back inside calling for Elsa. She sees her at the balcony, tending to her collection of plants, wearing gloves dirtied by soil. Elsa fiddles with her braid, irritated at first when she hears about Nils at the door but lets him in with a defeated sigh in the end.

“I thought you threw out everything I gave you.” Nils walks into the dining area, illuminated by the midday sun coming through the balcony’s opening. He looks at the small pots of sweet violets sitting in a corner, right beside bigger pots of new guinea impatiens and hibiscus flowers, which Elsa was tending moments ago.

Elsa stays in silence, brooming the dirt off the floor.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be long. I just wanted to see you before I leave the city.”

“I don’t have anything to talk about with you.”

Maren takes that as her cue to give them space, but she lingers close enough to eavesdrop.

“I didn’t know you had a guest today. I didn’t mean to intrude—”

“She’s living with me.”

“Sorry?”

Elsa stands up, wiping dirt off of her apron. “We’re living together. Rather, I’m letting her live with me. I take care of her food and everything.”

It stuns Maren.  _ Has she lost it!? _

“Oh... I don’t know what to say.” Nils crosses his arms, dismay seeping in his voice. “Isn’t this inappropriate? Isn’t she working under you right now? Elsa... this isn’t you. Was my… was my affair that much of a shock to you?”

“…What?”

“Isn’t she taking advantage of your kindness? She’s leeching off you! You should be careful of people like her, who give up their pride to get what they want. And… and she might be from some secret gang of North Uldrans—”

“I dare you to finish that sentence.” Elsa walks inside the dining area, closing the balcony’s sliding doors. Even from afar, Maren can sense the anger radiating from Elsa’s every movement.

“I dare you to say another thing about her. I don’t know about this pride you’re talking about, but I’ll tell you what.” Elsa stares hard into Nils’s eyes. “A man who’s confident about himself doesn’t care about where people stand.

“You always used to say, oh, you’re so lucky, you’re so smart, you went to such a great uni, your pay’s so good, you have it so easy, how lucky! You never considered how sick and tired I was of hearing that bullshit from everyone. And in the end, you ran away! Some pride you have.

“All you could do was envy what others have without doing anything about it, drowning yourself in self-pity, never considering my feelings, not even once. And Maren… is leagues ahead of you in that way.”

Silence descends in the room, and Maren can see Elsa cooling down. Opposite of her, Nils looks defeated.

“It’s… as you say.” Nils lets out a breath he’s holding. “But I’m glad… to hear your honest opinion. When we broke up, you never said a thing. We didn’t even fight or argue. It’s bothered me ever since.”

He gathers himself and heads towards the hallway. “I’ll be off then.”

Maren catches him by the door. “Wait.”

Nils turns reluctantly to face her.

“The reason I stick around is simple. It’s not about pride or confidence. I just want to be next to her, and she lets me. That’s all.”

Maren shuts the door and returns inside. She sees Elsa crouching outside the balcony, the smallness of her back making Maren’s heart swell.

Elsa’s words from the other night come back to her. They never talked about it, nor the kiss, and it’s hard to take Elsa seriously when she's drunk anyway.

But Maren is sure of one thing.

“Elsa.” Maren joins her and looks out to the city. “You know, I’ll stay here until you tell me to leave.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m serious.”

“…even if it’s for a few years?”

“Yep.” Maren peeks at Elsa, whose loose bangs shine under the sun, her side braid exposing the outline of her nape in elegance. She seems to be making an effort to hide her face, which Maren thinks is pointless. 

Maren will always see her.

“Even if I turn into a granny?”

A joke, though with a tinge of shyness that attempts to hide the sincerity of the question. And Maren knows the answer. From behind, she wraps her arms around Elsa, hugging her close as if to never let go.

“Even if you turn into a granny.”


	8. fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last edited on: December 13th, 2020

**Verse 8**

“Can’t you nag Weasletown one more time for me?”

“I can, but you’ll just get the same answer. The new gym comes first, and the renovation starts in two weeks. You’ll have to wait until next year for the new auditorium to be considered.”

“Ugh.”

Elsa gives a sympathetic look at the miffed posture of Megara Bitharis, the new head of their drama department. Megara has been busy revitalizing the department in the past couple of months, which lacked organization until her arrival. It's been a resounding success so far, which is exactly what Elsa expected from someone with a theatre background as rich and professional as Megara's. Elsa gets the sense that putting high schoolers into their places is nothing more than an entertaining warm-up for her.

Megara is popular for another reason: her alluring disposition combined with her elegant Romaic features. She’s almost a decade older than Elsa, yet her chic style and coy sense of humor allow her to vibe with students with more familiarity, making her a student-favorite.

Yet, despite being the opposite of Elsa’s stiffness, they both share a confronting nature towards cheeky comments thrown behind their backs (or sometimes, tossed in front of their faces), making Megara a comfortable acquaintance to chat with. Elsa would argue Megara handles those situations with more grace, while she’s more likely to leave a ticking time bomb in place, with no way for the other party to avoid it.

Elsa doesn’t mind if they become friends.

“Is the classroom hopping option no good?”

“Well,” Megara crosses her legs as she sweeps her long auburn locks on her shoulder, “Jane dear has been helping me sort it out in her free time, but it’s still such a hassle. The class is over by the time we get things settled.”

Elsa rests her chin on her hand. “I can try to be more persistent next time. And if he says no, I’ll figure out something else.”

Megara’s hopeful look turns into a pleased grin. “Oh Elsie, you’re simply the best.”

Elsa’s brows furrow over the nickname, but it’s joined with a smile.

“Oh, don’t give me that look. You’re way too uptight for your age, Your Majesty.”

“I—”

“And you should call me Meg when it’s just us. Every time I hear you say ‘Miss Bitharis’, I think I’m in trouble.”

Elsa chuckles. Somehow, she feels shy. 

Before she can make a retort, a familiar figure by the other side of her glass walls catches her eye. Megara notices and walks to the door to let them in.

“ _ Miss Heidi! _ So good to see you!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your—”

“No, no, I’m done with my business. Never mind that—you, sweetheart, were fantastic last weekend!” Megara places her hand on her chest. “I feel lucky to be working with such young talents. You should have seen her performance, Miss Larsen, it was just stellar.”

_ I did. I was in the front row. _

“Thanks—”

“And you sure were an eyeful that evening. I bet boys— _ and _ girls—have been on your tail. I don’t judge.” Megara ends with a teasing tone.

Elsa shoots an amused look at Maren who’s all smiles, who looks flustered from Megara’s flaunting praise. 

She clears her throat.

“Right, I won’t hold you ladies off any longer. Have a lovely evening.” Megara chimes as she sashays outside, leaving them alone.

“Ma—Miss Heidi, is there anything you need?”

Maren sits down by Elsa’s desk and throws her a confused look. “Um… it’s just us, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” Elsa sighs, “I just don’t want to make it a habit while we’re at work.” She leans back and gives Maren a proper look. It feels like yesterday when Maren introduced herself to Elsa on her first day. 

They were strangers then. 

“So, you need something?”

“Right. Uh, I need to ask for a leave of absence. Around two weeks?”

“…let me check.” Elsa turns to her computer, trying to register what Maren said. “It should be fine, we have a substitute queued up.” She contemplates for a few moments before asking, “Where are you going?”

“Oh, just this big dance seminar in Los Santos. We’re going to be a small group from different companies, and we’ll do a lot of workshops with choreographers over there.”

Los Santos, the city of dreams. Located on the other side of the country. “That’s… quite far.”

“Don’t worry, Punz figured a way to cover all costs and food. Oh, and I’ve already packed up to meet everyone at a hotel, so I won’t be coming home tonight. Flight’s tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay.” Elsa faces her computer again and busies herself writing emails, unsure of what to say next.

“Elsa?”

“Hm—” A hug from behind surprises her. How did Elsa not hear her? “M-Maren!” She glances sideways. “Someone might see—”

“It’s three in the afternoon, everyone’s clocked in class. Anyways, this is more important.” Maren tightens her hug, playfully swaying Elsa. “Don’t miss me too hard, okay? I’ll text you when I’m there.”

Two weeks can feel like a long time. The first two weeks she spent with Maren painted over her old normal like a splash of iridescence on a blank canvas. As if it was meant to be that way for a lifetime.

So Elsa caves, relaxing into Maren’s warm embrace and soaking up her comforting citrusy scent.

“…take care.”

* * *

“Achoo!”

“Caught a cold? You should make some ginger tea. Hot baths are great, too.”

_ Well, I fell asleep in one. _ “T-thanks, I’ll be fine.” Spending last night in the bath sulking over a stressful workday may not have been the best idea. But it wasn't like she could have texted Maren, who was thousands of feet above and hundreds of miles away from Arendale. She would have to wait for a text from her later tonight.

Elsa looks down at her packed lunch. It’s an assorted set of stir-fried vegetables with chicken on Basmati rice. She opens her small container of sweet Thai sauce and empties it over her meal. It’s Maren’s favorite; but she prefers her sauce with chili and keeps a hawk's eye on Elsa on the days they have it to make sure it makes it into her lunch pack.

“I think you should rest. Do you want to come over after work?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I don’t want to disturb—”

“It’s okay, Anna moved out the other day.” Hans wipes the breadcrumbs from the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “She’s been planning it since I told her about us. I kept telling her to stay since I don’t find it to be an issue at all, but that girl is stubborn.” He scooches over and wraps his arm around Elsa’s shoulder.

Elsa leans into Hans’ sturdy hold and feels safe. She used to long for it as she observed him from afar all those years ago, enough to make her heart twinge. Now, his scent is always nearby to promise that security, and she treasures it. 

But in his arms, it feels like she’s standing on glass. She's wary of it breaking with the slightest misstep, dragging him with her into the pits of her insecurities. She can’t let Hans in, let alone close enough to see through the glass below them and glimpse her ugly cracks.

“I’m sorry, I have to take care of some things at home.”

“No problem, babe.” Hans holds her closer, giving her a light kiss on the top of her head.

* * *

_**Punz** : You know, u don’t have to wait for her to text you. Just shoot her one _

_**Elsa** : I can’t do that. I don’t want to bother her… _

_**Punz** : Okaaayy _

Elsa turns onto her other side on the sofa. She grabs a pillow to cover the side of her head, and another one to hug. The colors of the TV playing a cooking show dance around the dim room, its sounds barely edible.

She hears a ping from her phone.

_**Punz** : You sure spoil that kid _

_**Elsa** : ...what do you mean? _

_**Punz** : Els, pls. How long have yall been living together? _

_**Elsa** : Around three months _

_**Punz** : right. You give her food, a room, etc. And in that short amount of time, yall have... clicked so well. You lose ur cool sometimes over her. Ur practically her mother hen _

_**Punz** : look, im really happy whenever i see you two. _

_Punz is typing…_

Elsa’s anxiety rises. Punz has always been perceptive; the voice of reason she looks for but sometimes avoids.

Punz makes it harder to keep Pandora's Box shut.

_**Punz** : dont take this the wrong way but, you were kinda hard to approach, even after we've become friends. And you've changed since maren came along. You smile more, and you've become more talkative too. I can see what she means for u _

_**Punz** : but also, shes a grown woman. You dont need to overworry. She may not look it cos u take care of her but she can handle her own _

Elsa sighs as she stares at their conversation. What more can she say?

_**Elsa** : You’re right. _

She gets up to turn in for the night, but another ping catches her attention.

_**Punz** : but also just text her if u really want you dummy _

Flopping onto the bed with her phone in hand, Elsa shuffles a list of greetings in her head to text Maren. In reality, she’s concerned (again) about disturbing her. Suddenly being apart caught Elsa off guard.

Another ping breaks her train of thought. She doesn’t expect to see Maren’s name instead of Punz, and it gives her enough heart palpitations to sit up and collect herself. She smiles when she sees her message, bringing warmth to her cheeks.

_**Maren** : u miss me dont u lol _

_**Elsa** : _😒

_**Maren** : _ 😛 _why are u still up?_

_I was waiting for you._

_**Maren** : I know why. You were waiting for me _😌

_**Elsa** : ...I don’t like it _

_**Maren** : huh?? _

_**Elsa** : I don’t like how you can always read my mind _

_Maren is typing…_

Elsa stares at the ellipses. They disappear only to return, faltering for a couple more seconds.

_**Maren**_ _:_ 😎

Elsa frowns.

_**Maren** : I gtg soon, we’re grabbing dinner _

_**Maren** : Go to sleep. Ur gonna catch a cold again _

_**Maren** : Whats our time diff? _

_**Elsa** : I’m 3 hours ahead. _

_**Maren** : Ok~ _

_**Maren** : dw ill text and send lots of pics until im back _😄 

_**Elsa** : dw? _

_**Maren** : …dont worry _😂

Elsa wraps the duvet around her. She huddles closer, faintly catching the scent of tangerine. Another of Maren's favorites.

_**Elsa** : I’ll ttyl then _

_**Elsa** : Goodnight! _

_**Maren**_ _: Night_ 💕

* * *

For once, Elsa took the subway to work.

Despite growing up in a buzzing metropolis, Elsa doesn’t do well in crowds. She knows her way around the subway from her high school and college years, but it never solved her claustrophobia. She’s lucky that Corona High is located outside the city center; it’s a forty-minute drive in traffic, and the subway track isn’t any faster either.

Ahtohallan Studio is a different story. Since it’s near the heart of the city, taking the subway would save thirty minutes of her time. It’s surrounded by a myriad of world-famous studios and theaters, lined up on streets leading to Aren Square. The crowds stretch as far as the eye can see, the bustling noise trapped by skyscrapers.

She hasn’t notified Punz about her visit. It was more of an impulse that came to her in the morning after she read Maren’s text about her schedule being intensive. It occurred to her that she knew very little about Maren’s training.

So the only thing on Elsa’s mind after clocking out was taking the A-line instead of Q, which skips through the stop by her home. 

Since she missed the open house the other month, it's her first time seeing Ahtohallan. The studio is in a fifty-story building, sitting on the tenth and eleventh floors. Stepping out the elevator, Elsa recognizes the lush maroon walls from pictures she's seen on Punz's phone. Familiar hip-hop music reverberates in the open rooms as she walks further inside.

It’s around six, and there are many people roaming around. Some have already noticed her. They almost tempt Elsa to leave, but her curiosity wins. 

Yeah. Only curiosity.

“Are you looking for someone?”

Elsa whips around. “I-I’m looking for Rapunzel. I’m her cousin."

The voice belonged to a shirtless buff guy in sweats, with scruffy blond hair a darker shade than hers. He looks around her age.

“I don’t think she’s here right now.” The blond scratches the back of his head. “Hey, Ryder! Have you seen Punz around?”

“Nope. Who’s looking for— oh.” Another guy inside a practice room looks at Elsa with recognition, surprising her. 

A young girl joins him. “Oh! I know you, you were at the last performance! Oh, sorry, my name’s Vaiana. I was in the same group as Maren. You’re her boss at her other work, right?”

“Yes, my name’s Elsa. Nice to meet you.” Elsa gives a polite smile as she takes Vaiana’s hand.

“Kristoff and Ryder weren’t there that night, but we actually perform with Maren quite a lot. Isn’t it so cool she's been chosen?”

“Sorry?” _Get a grip, Elsa._

“You’re talking to Maren’s biggest fan—ow!” Ryder winces at Vaiana’s elbowing. “Did I lie?”

“Well, no, but I just feel super proud and honored, okay?” A giddy tone escapes from Vaiana. “We get to perform with a prodigy, and she’s finally getting recognized for it!”

Kristoff places an arm on Vaiana’s shoulder. “True enough, Punz has been busy helping her out with collabs. Not enough people know her history of winning international awards. People just moved on in a blink.”

“That’s because the mainstream doesn’t give Uldrans enough chance to stay in the spotlight.” Ryder jumps in. “If only her family had allowed her to get the credentials. I mean, she would’ve qualified to get into any prestigious school. She probably feels pressured over there.”

Their chatter continues, but all Elsa hears is the echo of their words, describing a stranger she thought she knew.

* * *

Elsa takes a bite of her chocolate slice. The dizziness of the past few hours dissipates as the sweet and sour of raspberries melt on her tongue, if only for a moment. The rain pours over the window near the bar table she’s sitting at, blurring the streets until they match her thoughts.

Her gaze continues to track the droplets sliding down the window when she gets the niggling sense of someone’s eyes on her. Turning on her left, she doesn’t expect to see a girl, standing beside her. Her strawberry blonde hair is wrapped in a bun, raindrops sprinkled on her fringe, and on the burgundy scarf hiding her freckled face. 

Elsa meets her teal eyes. _Anna._

Anna says nothing, so Elsa breaks the ice. “Anna? Hi.”

A blink. “H-hi me?” Anna’s eyes grow wide. “Yes—hi—uh,” she reaches out a hand, which Elsa bemusedly takes, “I heard you visited the studio—but I wasn’t there and, well, considering we haven’t met, which is weird because you’ve been dating my brother for months—anyway, I figured I’d stalk—I mean, catch you here and say. Hi.” She lets go of Elsa’s hand, her cheeks flushed.

Elsa returns a smile. She knows. The avoidance was obvious, and she’s not sure why. Maybe the distance was overwhelming. Anna was only twelve the last time Elsa saw her in person, and it was only a casual greeting.

"Do you want anything?"

"Oh, you don't need to—"

"It's my treat," Elsa calls for a waiter, and Anna orders the same cake as hers. As they settle into their seats, Elsa looks at Anna once more, drawn in. Her features clash with the image of a pigtailed tomboy from Elsa’s memory.

"You've grown."

"Oh, um, yeah," Anna tucks her hair. "You haven't changed at all—I mean, in a good way."

"Thank you."

Before silence descends again, Anna starts this time. "Punz is still stuck in a meeting, in case you were wondering. She's been talking to producers all day."

"I heard. The plans with… Maren's trip took some time."

"...yeah."

Elsa feels a shift in the air. What changed? She thinks of another topic. "I don't think I've seen you perform. I've only been to two shows, but I'd love to go to yours."

"It's Punz's idea." Anna plays with the swirls of her cafe latte. "It's better to spread us out in smaller shows like that. Maren and I are her chosen best, after all."

"That's impressive."

"Thanks. Maren is the better one." Anna takes a bite of cake. "And thanks to _you_ , she's been looking better lately too."

Elsa swallows her last sip a little too quickly. She faces Anna _._ "I'm sorry, what—"

"It feels like she only cares about herself now," Anna mutters, focused on the raspberry bits she’s fiddling with her fork. "I know we're finished—"

_"Finished'? Hang on, does that mean—_

"—but she didn't even tell me about the trip. Or, well, she did, but she was already at the airport."

More people enter the cafe as the night grows darker, the interior lights dimming into a soft yellow. Beneath it, Anna’s hair glows fiery, as if she’s luminance itself. Elsa can see her perturbed expression, but beyond it, she can sense something more: a spark of passion that can get her to heights as great as Maren's. 

Anna looks so young.

“It's not that she only cares about herself.” Elsa stirs her half-filled cup of black coffee. “Rather, I think that Maren only has space for herself.” She smiles at Anna and sees she now has her full attention. “When you get older and become more confident in yourself, you'll be able to think of someone else's well-being before your own.”

Anna flushes and looks down, fidgeting, before looking up at Elsa again. “About what I said, I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. Maren’s my friend. I'm just helping her out, that's all.”

* * *

Elsa's chat window with Maren is flooded with pictures, punctuated with excited rants. Some feature palm trees outlined by the sunset, some show Maren making silly poses by famous street landmarks, and some taken at Bay Beach, where Maren took selfies with other girls nearby. 

She's glad Maren has the time to unwind in the middle of her schedule, but something about the last set of images is bugging her. Nonetheless, she chucks the irritation away, refusing to brood over it.

_**Elsa** : I visited your studio yesterday. Met Ryder, Vaiana and… this blonde guy. _

_**Maren** : That’s awesome! You mean Kristoff? _

_**Elsa** : Yeah, that was his name. _

_**Elsa** : I also saw Anna for the first time in years. _

_**Maren** : Oh? _

_**Elsa** : Yeah. _

Elsa bites her lip.

_**Elsa** : I didn’t know you dated her. _

_Maren is typing…_

Ignoring the fluttering of her heart, Elsa settles for another position on the armchair as she pulls the blanket around her.

_**Maren**_ _:_ 🤭🙀

_**Maren** : yeah for a year _

_Pang._

_**Maren** : did she say anything else? _

_**Elsa** : She knows you’re living with me _

_**Elsa** : I’m assuming you’ve told others too. _

_**Elsa** : I’m not mad. But it’s still better to be careful. _

_Maren is typing…_

Elsa hopes she’s not coming off bitchy. Is she?

_**Maren** : I know :) _

_**Maren** : And don’t worry, I’ve only told Ryder. He’s a good person, he’s like a brother to me _

_Maren is typing…_

Elsa lets out a small sigh, but something else is nagging her.

_**Maren** : And about Anna _

_**Maren** : I know her _

_**Maren** : She’s not the type of person who would start rumors _

_**Maren** : I don’t think she’d even tell Hans, far from it _

_**Maren**_ _: So don’t worry ok?_ 🤗

It should have relieved Elsa’s concerns. The truth is she was not that worried; she’s become lenient about people finding out about their situation, as long as it wasn’t anyone who would use it against them. Besides, it’s hard for Elsa to see Anna doing something that absurd after their brief encounter.

There _is_ something else she wants to ask, but she’s afraid it will lead to a new question, and then another—until she realizes she can’t solve the puzzle that is Maren. Because the more she looks for the pieces, the further Maren drifts, and it’s like having a sad dream, where you keep walking and never reach your destination. 

It stings every time she finds a piece and picks it up; if she puts them all into place, would she have it in her to look away from the emerging picture?

For now, it’s enough for Elsa to peruse the few pieces she has found—no, it _should_ be enough. If she finds more on her way, then so be it. She will keep them close to her heart just the same.

_**Elsa**_ _: Okay._ 😊

* * *

Exam periods are stressful for the teachers, too. They swamp Elsa with a workload that spills over to her weeknights, which is common around semester finals. It doesn’t help that she’s taken over some assessments for the junior year while also preparing for the next semester’s syllabus.

Never mind that she has been sleep-deprived for the past week.

She doesn’t mind the extra work. Maren’s messages have been sparse. Her replies were sometimes too late, which Elsa expected. Maren sent her a snapshot of her routine, which runs until eleven in the evening. She explained the workshops to feed Elsa’s interest; they all looked intensive, so Elsa took Ryder’s words to heart and hoped that learning more about Maren’s craft would ease or distract her from the pressure. 

_Back to work._ The sleepless nights are backfiring on her. Elsa has a stiff neck on top of the irritation and pent-up stress, and she almost lost her temper at Miss White, which hasn’t happened in a while. She trudges through her day, tired eyes boring into paperwork, frequently straying to her computer’s clock.

Five hours until Maren comes home.

Before Elsa knows it, it’s time to clock out. She’s on her feet, slipping into her coat as she hastily packs up. It’s Friday night so the traffic is horrendous, but she tries to relax by going through her mental cookbook. Would Maren be fine with some steamed fish or stewed beef? Or would she prefer a bowl of simple omelet rice and meatballs? Should they put on a movie while they eat the mango ice cream she promised to preserve until Maren returns? 

Or maybe Maren is too tired to do anything, and she will cling to Elsa like always. Maybe she’ll snake her way into Elsa’s lap and whine about her day, her silky brown locks begging to be unraveled by Elsa’s fingers as they both stay in serenity.

Elsa’s fine with that, too.

She arrives home, numb from the fatigue of her day as she scurries about tidying the apartment. She prepares soup and chicken, which should be a perfect warmer for tonight’s cold and rainy weather. 

As the soup simmers down, her phone vibrates in her pocket. Elsa takes it in a beat.

_**Maren**_ _: My arrival is delayed_ 😭

Her heart sinks in disappointment.

_**Maren** : by maybe 3 or 4h _

_**Maren** : stopover issues _

_**Maren** : im using wifi btw _

_**Maren** : might die again cos it kinda sucks _

_**Maren** : but you know who else might die _

_**Maren** : me _

_**Maren** : cos I miss you _🥺

_**Maren** : and I wanna see you now _

_Dummy._

_**Maren** : but donut fret _

_**Elsa** : do not* _

_**Maren** : donut ruin it! _😾

_**Maren** : I’ll be home soon _💙

Elsa can only think of one reply.

_**Elsa** : I’ll wait for you. _

And she will because it’s her turn. The nights Maren stayed up when Elsa was out late, whether it was on a date with Hans, or when her defenses were down from the pull of alcohol—Maren always greeted her at the door or caught her when she stumbled. She always enveloped her in a warmth that allows her to breathe again. 

It’s the least she can do.

* * *

Later that night, Elsa wakes up in pitch blackness. The last thing she remembers was climbing up the loft to replace Maren’s blankets, which she now finds herself wrapped in. In front of her, she sees the soft outline of a figure.

_Maren?_ _A dream?_

Elsa doesn’t want to find out, not when she has barely slept in the past week. She pulls Maren into her blanket, almost as if she _is_ there with her; and her heart swells, filling up her entire chest as she holds her closer.

Besides, if this is a dream, why wake up now?


	9. One Day

**Verse 9**

_ Snowflakes powdered the window sills of the brick building across Elsa’s apartment. She’d been staring at them for the past thirty minutes, distracting herself from studying for her semester finals. It had gotten dark enough for her to see her reflection by the window, which wore the face of a sixteen-year-old girl with eyes looking past through their mirror. _

_ She turned back to her desk and minimized the browser that held thirty open tabs of course material she’d been revising. She opened her Notes app and went to the page labeled “Alemann Trip”, skimming through an itinerary she’d made for a week's worth of activities. It was a lot, but she was sure it wouldn’t be too tiring for her parents who had always loved to travel. _

_ They would depart through a ferry on the fifteenth, arrive at Alemann on the next day, and spend the rest of the week at the city of Munic. It would be their first time exploring outside the capital city of Berl, which the pair had visited for work trips only. Their return would be on the afternoon of the twenty-first, sparing enough time to prepare for the end of the year celebrations. _

_ A rustling beneath her desk pulled her out of her thoughts. Marshmallow was poking around her feet, his baby fur tickling her. “Marshy, come ‘ere,” she cooed while reaching down to place him on her lap. She played a video of Munic’s town square, which showcased its impressive Europa architecture and large angelic statues that dated back to the 1600s. They surrounded a gorgeous fountain show at the center, lit with vibrant colors as soon as the afternoon ended.  _

_ Elsa caressed Marshmallow’s fur, smiling through the puppy’s kisses as she continued to watch. She wasn’t hoping for the trip to be a miracle; it had only been a casual thought thrown by Agnar when he and Iduna had calmed down from another fight over his old affair. It had taken all of Elsa’s courage to intervene, pushing for the idea to be a reality. _

_ If it meant spending the end of the year with less strained smiles on the dinner table, it would be worth the shot. _

_ “I hope they like it.” _

* * *

_ It’s That Time of the Year Again - High Coast Winter Hike 2019 Is Here! _

_ Want to take a break from the hectic city life? Experience the oldest heritage of Arendale through a unique, three-day adventure at the North Mountain - filled with beautiful scenery, fun activities, and many more. You hike at your own pace with your equipment… _

Before Elsa can finish reading the email, her eye catches the crouched figure in her living room. Maren’s leg is stretched behind her head, but she seems preoccupied. Intrigued by the sound of snipping, Elsa walks over.

“What are you up to?”

“Huh?” Maren turns around, her posture eliciting an amused expression from Elsa. “Oh, I’m skipping today’s practice.” She places her leg down and stretches her other, earning another raised brow from the blonde.

“I meant  _ that _ .”

“Oh! Well, Christmas is around the corner. We gotta spruce up this dull-looking room with some real colors.”

“Excuse you,” Elsa snorts as she sits beside Maren, who’s still engrossed in pasting colored paper together. “Did you make these ring chains?”

“Yup. I’m pretty good at this, huh?”

“I’m impressed. But,” Elsa shifts her legs as she tidies Maren’s creations, “I’m not really big on decorations.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I usually leave the city to go hiking.” Elsa unlocks her phone and reopens the email she was reading to show it to Maren. “I’ve been a member here for some years now.”

The urge to invite Maren arises, but she squashes it down.  _ Maybe not this time. _

Maren gives Elsa a baffled look. “You seriously spent your Christmas hiking in the North Mountain? Alone?”

“Yeah, it’s great.” Elsa navigates to an album, filled with pictures she took of the sunny mountain landscapes covered in lush, white snow. “This is from last year. I usually start on the twentieth and return home by Christmas.”

Maren takes the phone, browsing more pictures with a curious look. “I mean, these are gorgeous.” She returns the phone to Elsa. “You just don’t strike me as someone who’d be this anti-social.”

Elsa senses Maren’s searching eyes on her, and she takes a deep breath before she meets them with her own. She thinks of how to answer, growing more anxious as the silence stretches out. 

But Maren continues to wait. Elsa always feels seen by those hazel eyes.

“I just figured that it’s better than feeling awkward attending parties and… visiting my parents’ graves.” Elsa fiddles with the pair of scissors Maren has been using. “I feel lighter getting away from everything, almost like therapy. I pray for them while I’m at the top of the mountain instead. So I make sure I reach it by the twenty-second.” She looks up at Maren’s apologetic eyes and breaks into a soft snicker. “Too dramatic?”

Maren perks up. “No, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t know—”

“It’s okay.” Elsa has told Maren about her parents’ death, but she never mentioned the date. She’s never told anyone else the reason behind her Christmas escapades. Every time she thinks her wounds have healed, the pain over that day rises again, and it takes all of her strength to overcome it—to forgive herself once more.

Elsa watches Maren lay down on her lap as if Maren sensed her unfading nervousness. She combs through Maren’s locks, pondering about her woes with family. Maren was persistent to not contact them since coming to Arendale. “How about you? Do you have plans to go back to North Uldra?”

She almost wishes Maren would answer ‘no, I’ll stay here’, but she dismisses it right away, chastising herself.

“Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

* * *

“So, what should we do for Christmas Eve?”

Elsa is taken aback. Of course things would be different with Hans. She was able to plan her hiking trips with past relationships, but she can’t bring herself to ask this time.

It’s always hard to push him away.

“Maybe we can do a small party at home with Anna and a couple of friends. Then we can get away with just the two of us afterward.” Hans pulls out his phone, searching for resorts. “We can reserve somewhere near the sea with a nice view.”

They sit by a bench in a less crowded corner of Brent Park, not far from Corona High. Whenever they have time after work, they walk to this spot, which Elsa likes as it’s small and quieter than the rest of the city’s parks.

“Aren’t you going to be too busy?”

Hans turns to her. “Elsa, of course I’d make time for you. Is there anything you want as a gift? I’ve got a few things in mind already, but I don’t want to end up giving you something you have or don’t like.”

Elsa looks at Hans, whose eyes are distant yet smiling. “I’m fine with anything. Is there anything you want yourself?”

“Hm, nothing in particular. As long as you’re there with me.” Hans chuckles as he sees Elsa’s cheeks color. “Was it too lame?” He moves over, his whisper tickling Elsa’s ear. “But it’s true.”

Hans kisses her and it’s too much. His voice and touch can still melt her, and she’s starting to think this is the only time when she can give herself to him. 

Yet they still haven’t done it. The years have failed to cover the sin of their past affair, still lingering in her mind like fresh snowfall. She wonders if she still has it in her to do it again with him; she’s stopped counting the number of times she thought,  _ ‘What would Mom and Dad think?’ _

Even now, with their proper relationship, the shame from that past haunts her. It reminds her too much of the naive girl who had sent her parents on that trip. It was too late to finally understand not only her mother’s pain but her father’s inner turmoil as well—one after another, they piled on her mountain of guilt.

Kissing Hans back, Elsa faces the familiar avalanche.

* * *

“What do you think?”

Elsa holds out her phone to Maren, showing a list of jackets she handpicked online.

“Hm, they all look great! I think I love these two the most.”

“Would you like it if someone gifted them to you?”

Maren’s eyes twinkle. “I’m not that picky—”

“Hm. Doesn’t mean Hans would even if you do.” Elsa looks back at her phone.

“Uh, ouch?”

Adjusting on the sofa, Elsa peeks at Maren, who is giving her an incredulous look. _Cute._ She sees her reach over to the laptop on the center table, which Elsa lends to her from time to time. Seeing Maren's eyes focus on the screen, Elsa asks suspiciously, “What are you up to?”

“I just canceled the Sailor Moon order.”

“...You did not.” In a blink, Elsa is on the floor, trying to retrieve the laptop from Maren’s mischievous hands. “That was the last one! Colourpop is not gonna produce any more—” 

Taking the laptop, she checks the item in their shared account. The rare makeup collection which led her to a gruesome two-week search is still sitting there with its ‘Shipped’ status.

She hears muffled giggles from behind. They grow louder as she turns around to their source—laying on the floor with her neck craned, Maren is failing to stifle her mirth, looking at her with such tenderness that makes her heart bloom. 

Maren quiets down as she notices Elsa’s own mischievous look. Before she can rise, Elsa holds her legs down, crawling on top of her. “N-no—haha—s-stop!” Her arms flail around, trying her best to cover her neck.

It’s useless. Elsa’s fingers find their way to her sides, drawing another plea from her. Elsa can feel Maren’s strength being sapped with each tickle, and it only makes it harder to stop. “Your legs are not as strong as I thought. You sure you’re practicing enough?”

“S-stop already! I think I’m—haha! Going to die—”

“I don’t know, Maren; I kind of agree.”

They both stop to look up at Punz, who’s by the table with an entertained grin as she sips on her mug of cinnamon coffee. 

Elsa untangles herself from Maren’s weak grip, nonchalantly walking over to Punz. “So how are you liking it?”

“Definitely good enough for someone who never drinks coffee. Thanks again, dear cus.”

“You’ll learn to like it. When’s your flight?”

“In two days. I’m stopping over in Roma before I arrive at Berl.” Punz sets down her mug. “Have you picked anything for Hans?”

“Nope.”

“Well, if you take too long, you should just doll up and offer yourself right after your Christmas date.”

Elsa almost chokes on her coffee. She can feel Punz scrutinizing her.

“No way. You guys haven’t done it?”

“Punz—”

“For real?” Maren’s voice catches Elsa off guard. She’s made her way to the table, holding a look with exaggerated bewilderment.

Elsa rubs her temples as their appalling reactions continue despite her silent complaints.

“That makes it even better!” Punz teases. “Didn’t you guys book that five-star restaurant by Madison Avenue?”

“Yup,” Maren chimes in, “it’s right by the seaside with the famous night view you always see in movies.”

“Ah, that one!”

Getting off her knees to sit beside Elsa, Maren makes a strange pose. Elsa watches her cup the air with one hand, as if holding a wine glass.

Maren stares keenly at Punz, drawing chortles from the latter. “Elsa, you look especially beautiful tonight,” she utters in a deeper voice, mimicking Hans’ southern accent. “Cheers to your eyes.”

Punz cracks up, her laughter echoing in the room. Elsa can only facepalm in embarrassment, peeking at Maren snickering in contentment.

She’s not going to complain about this cheery atmosphere, but as she looks at Maren who's bantering with Punz in between grins, she wonders if her act has yet to end.

* * *

Sitting by a bench in Brent Park, Elsa watches over the children skating on the frozen lake, pleased by the sounds of their gliding across the ice. She loves it all—the crisp air of the winter chill, the softness of snowflakes at her fingertips, and the glimmer of thick snow at night. They envelop her heart in repose, reminding her of the days when things were simpler. 

Yet, she’s careful not to feel too long, lest she glimpses a certain snowfall surrounded by suffocating silence, still embedded into the glaciers of her memory.

Footsteps distract her from far-flung thoughts. Hans arrives with a smile, holding two paper gift bags. The sight should touch her, but her stomach sinks at what it might mean a week before their planned celebrations.

They greet each other with a kiss and Elsa accepts the gifts, wondering if she should voice her concern. 

Before she can ask him, Hans comes clean with apologetic eyes. “I have to return to Copenhamn with Anna on the twenty-first. Our uncle passed away.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m not sure if we’ll return for the New Year’s as well, but I’ll let you know. I’m really sorry.”

“No, I’m really sorry to hear that. Are you okay?” Elsa is worried, but she tries her best not to sound disappointed. She won’t let her selfishness win.

“Yeah, I will be. I’ll make up for this, I promise.”

_ Do you want me to come with you? _ The words don’t come out. Why can’t she say it? 

Then it strikes her, and the guilt is quick to twist into disgust before she can acknowledge the weight lifted from her shoulders. Her stomach turns as she recognizes that same monster of greed who ruined relationships and, worst of all, took her parents’ lives. 

She doesn’t deserve forgiveness. She doesn’t deserve to yearn for Maren’s company now. 

She deserves to be alone, concealed in her snow of misfortune.

* * *

_ This again...  _

Maren was braiding her damp hair when she walked into Elsa sprawled all over the sofa. Glancing around now, she spots a bottle of Pinot Noir sitting on the center table beside an empty glass with melting ice. Its box casing stands behind a couple of expensive-looking paper gift bags below the table. 

Walking over to check the bottle, she finds it already empty.

She sighs. She looks over and sees Elsa’s bathrobe is loose. She sighs again, feeling the warmth spread in her cheeks.  _ What a vulnerable position. _

“Elsa, I can see your boobs. You’re gonna catch a cold.” Kneeling by the sofa, she nudges Elsa but gets no answer. “Aren’t you gonna toast to Hans?”

Elsa faces away from Maren with a whine. “Hn... it’s okay... we’re going to break up anyway...”

_ You’re so hopeless.  _ Maren carefully turns Elsa over, fixing her disheveled bathrobe. She tucks Elsa’s arms together and puts her dangling leg back on the sofa, holding her breath as she lifts her. She’ll worry about the scattered mess on the floor later.

Entering the dark bedroom, she lowers Elsa down on the bed, only to feel the encircling of arms around her neck, tugging her down to meet warm lips.

Maren lays her down. Or rather, Elsa pulls her in. Their lips never break contact.  _ This is bad. _ Her nerves rattle as Elsa allows her in a heartbeat, leaving her breathless in her sudden exploration.  _ Keep going?  _ Intoxicated with the tang of red wine and sweet vanilla blending, she doubts anything will ever taste as good. 

_ This is a bad idea, right? Or?  _ Their lips part as Maren kisses along Elsa’s jawline, drunk on everything that is her.

“H-Hans...”

Elsa’s murmur ruptures through Maren’s reverie.

Annoyed, Maren sits up. She sees the familiar scrunch on Elsa’s face. Before she gives it a second thought, she pinches Elsa’s nose, waking her up in soft coughs.

Maren considers leaving, but she scoots down to the foot of Elsa’s bed instead. The outside light trespasses the room through the door’s opening, as if it sheds at an act that shouldn’t have happened.

She was foolish to turn to the darkness’ comfort. 

A glance to her side shows it cast on Elsa, who has sat up while still calming down from her coughing fit. Maren looks back at the light, touching its edges with her toes, thinking of what to say, and only one thing comes to her.

“When you’re with Hans, do you always try too hard?”

She feels Elsa’s eyes at her back, but she doesn’t wait for the answer. Instead, she voices it herself, her own words pricking her. “I guess you love him that much.”

“I… do.”

She hears Elsa’s stirring, but she doesn’t look back, too afraid to accept their distance.

“He was my first love. At school, the first thing was to find him. Whenever I saw him, my day would be full. It was painful. I… really loved him.

“Back then, I knew I tried too hard. I could have given up. But I could never do it.”

Whenever Elsa recounts memories, her voice sometimes breaks as she tries her best not to cry—Maren has always been there to listen in earnest, soothing Elsa with embraces and chaste kisses. But now she can only stay still and listen.

“I could never erase him.”

* * *

_ Lately, I been wondering what's with you, you _

_ I need you to hear me, baby _

_ Slide to the right, then turn after a quarter.  _ The song’s mellow lyrics flow through Maren like cool waves, her body giving shape to their caressing form. Whenever they take over, there’s no space for anything else. Like always, it’s only her and the rhythm.

But sometimes, it’s lonely.

Warm hands pull her back to the present. They touch her waist from behind, moving around her in intricate motions. With another wave, she turns around to meet bold teal eyes, staring at her with familiar resolve.

Maren knows a thing or two about failing to erase someone. Or does she? How can she compare what she had with Anna to what Elsa had with Hans?

The question only echoes another, and she refuses to acknowledge it. Comparing herself to other people on the stage is more than enough she can battle with.

Her practice session ends, garnering a positive reception from their guest choreographer, Tiana, who has assumed Punz’s role today while she’s away. But aside from brief exchanges, Maren hasn’t had the chance to know the woman better with her thoughts still lingering somewhere else.

She steps outside the practice room for a breather, walking over to the clear and tall windows of their building. Outside, the sky is almost jet black, barely grazed by the city’s neon lights from below. The nights have been arriving earlier since December started, but not as early as they do in North Uldra, where they drape over the town only two hours after lunchtime.

Visiting home was never an option. She already knew this answer to Elsa’s question from the other day. Perhaps she had some hope of finding the courage by the time arrived, but it never came to her. And now, it’s too late to decide. Elsa’s plans with Hans start tonight, and they might extend until New Year’s.

_ I guess I’ll be alone this Christmas. _

She could ask Elsa about making plans of their own. But with how today has gone so far, she might as well throw the idea away. Elsa barely talked, let alone looked at her this morning. Their messages over lunch were curt, and Maren’s sure it’s not because of the exams.

A sinking feeling settles within her. Maybe she finally messed things up for good.

“Something on your mind?”

Pulled from her thoughts by a curious voice, she turns around to face her redheaded partner from today’s sessions. Anna looks at her attentively, her cheeks still flushed from their practice. Maren has always found that expression adorable.

“Not much. Just plotting how I’ll take over this city until the year ends.” She quips while taking a cold can of Fanta from the staff table. Toying with the can’s rim, she throws back a question at Anna. “How about you? Got any plans?” She ends with a teasing tone, but it wavers as she notices the onset of seriousness in Anna’s expression.

“I... have to return to Copenhamn tomorrow. Our uncle passed away.” Anna’s eyes hold no grief, only dismay. “Hans insisted we should go together.”

It hits Maren with a mild shock, reminding her of last night. It finally clicks.  _ So that’s what happened... _

“Oh… I’m really sorry to hear that.” She tries to console Anna, even as she catches a sliver of apathy from her demeanor. When it comes to family outside of Hans, she knows as much of Anna’s own predicament. “Well, I’ll allow you to pester me for once. Hit me up anytime while you’re there.”

Anna lets out a soft snicker before hopping on the table next to them. Playfully swinging her legs, she cocks her head towards Maren with a concerned look. “You should’ve gone home to North Uldra. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that bad with your folks.” Leaning forward, Anna looks straight into Maren’s eyes. “I would’ve gone with you.”

Maren turns back to the city in silence. She’s not brave enough to respond.

“You want to stay with her. I get it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Anna’s voice is quieter yet her frustration spills more. “Why won’t you give up on her?”

Fixating her eyes on the dozens of blinking billboard lights from the street across, Maren finds her answer. “That woman… bottles it all up on her own. Other than myself, she won’t even cry in front of her friends, not even Hans. Sad, right?” She looks back at Anna, who's now holding a confused look.

“Then… why only to you?”

Maren chuckles as she hops onto the table beside Anna. “Who knows. Maybe, because I’m not human.”

“Err..”

An upbeat chime distracts both of them. Anna pulls out her phone and sighs while checking the message she just received. “Why is everyone so hung up on Elsa?”

“What’s up?”

“Hans is worried ‘cos he didn’t get a strong reaction from his gifts.”

“Oh, well, she probably feels awkward since their thing is likely canceled. He can always make up for, I don’t know, her birthday.” Before Maren can take a chug of her drink, her eyes catch the surprised look on Anna’s face. “What?”

“Um, I think her birthday is today.”

* * *

_ Running away from home to pursue your dreams is a common story. For that, Maren never thought her own life story would be anything special to share. And whenever she casually did, it would be brushed aside as something admirable, appeasing the shame in her if only for a moment. _

_ That afternoon, she didn’t expect Elsa’s keen interest. “I didn’t want to help run the business, so I left home,” she said, expecting the conversation to end there. _

_ “What kind of business is it?” _

_ Maren’s head propped up. “Oh, um, it’s a tourist business.” Seeing the gleaming curiosity from Elsa across the table, she continued. “My family manages the biggest tourist office in Heidi, in the south of North Uldra. People visit it mainly for its forests and reindeers, and my grandmother leads the hotel and tour services. My parents wanted me to take over because I was the eldest of my cousins.” _

_ “Huh, interesting.” Elsa sported an impressed look, which unsettled Maren for some reason. “You should be more than fine on your own then.” _

_ It was as Maren expected. “Oh, uh—” _

_ A chuckle escaped Elsa. “I’m kidding. It must have been tough. If they're against what you want to do, I think you made a good decision.” _

_ Maren’s cheeks warmed up. “Thanks. How about you? Other than Punz, does your family live nearby?” _

_ She didn’t expect to see the flash of hesitance on Elsa’s face. _

_ “Oh, no, they don’t. I have a few relatives in Trom, but I haven't kept contact with them since we moved here when I was in high school.” Elsa took a bite of her food. “My parents passed away soon after.” _

_Maren didn’t know how to respond. She felt like an idiot for feeling comfortable enough to pry. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.” If it was anyone else, she would’ve been hesitant about continuing the topic. But when she heard the repressed eagerness in Elsa’s voice, she felt like she had no other choice. “We don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. But if you_ _do, I’m all ears.”_

_ She watched the relief glow in Elsa’s features. She’d do anything to bring out that grateful smile. _

_ As if they were fragile fragments of her memories, she saw Elsa took the time to gather her words. “My parents didn’t have a good relationship. I’m an only child, and we were a small family. So they never divorced for my sake. _

_ “At one point they almost did, so I encouraged them to go on this trip to Alemann." _

_ Suddenly, it fell into place. Maren could never forget the sinking of NK Royal Star in 2006. It was reported all over the news as one of Northern States' biggest tragedies of the last decade. _

_ “I... The last time I saw them was when I drove them to the port.” Elsa poked around her food, and for a second Maren thought her eyes watered.  _

_ And Maren finally realized. _

_ “Elsa... It wasn’t your fault.” _

_ Elsa looked at her with a rueful smile. “The past is in the past. But that’s enough about me,” she suddenly announced, standing up to put her plate away. “When you do visit North Uldra, let me know. I’ll come with you if you want.” _

_ Maren was sure Elsa held back about something, but she didn’t push that time. She never intended to swerve the conversation to dig on old scars. _

_ “Sure, I’ll show you around.” _

* * *

Maren stumbles while entering the apartment, breathless from running. She hastily checks her phone.

_**Maren:** Heya, when are you getting home? _

Elsa still hasn’t replied. Maren feels like a fool for piecing things together too late. If it wasn’t for the plan with Hans, Elsa would have gone on her annual trip to the North Mountain. Today, she would have reached the peak of her journey.

Today, she would have prayed for her parents’ death anniversary.

Entering the living room, she looks at the wall clock. She will need an hour or more to prepare everything.

Arriving in the kitchen, Maren arranges her plastic bags one by one, putting aside the containers of Roman pasta with slices of seafood pizza. The restaurant near the station on the way home was new to her, and she can only hope the crowdedness meant a good impression. 

Never mind that she won’t be checking her bank account anytime soon.

She swiftly washes the bottles of cider and places them inside the fridge, while making sure there are enough ice cubes in the freezer’s trays.

Her eyes scan over the state of the apartment. Thankfully, it’s tidy enough, and the ring chains she made should be easy to put up.

Which leaves her with one task left.

Reaching over the last plastic bag, she pulls out a white paper box, opening it to reveal a ready-made chocolate cake, bare of any toppings. With no time to think through decorations, she searches the fridge in hopes to find leftover fruits. To her relief, she spots a half-filled container of strawberries and transfers them in a bowl for a wash.

The icing tubes should melt soon, so she leaves them be as she slices through the fruits. Following the first idea that came to her, she piles them up on the top of the cake like a small mountain, leaving space below for a message.

She grabs the softened icing tubes, suddenly stopping in restless motion. She’s not sure what to write. Uncertain of how Elsa would react, she ends up writing ‘Merry Christmas’ instead in slight cursive, berating her poor handwriting.

The buzzing on the counter startles her. Grabbing her phone, her heart skips a beat at Elsa’s name.

_**Elsa:** I’ll be home in 15 _

_ What!? _ She gathers herself and prepares the table for dining, running around the room as she hurriedly tapes up the ring chains. Racking her brain in case she’s forgetting anything else, her eyes land on her winter jacket, placed on one of the dining chairs.

There  _ is _ one other thing.

Maren fishes out a jewelry box from her jacket pocket, tiny enough to fit in her hand. In her hurry, she was lucky enough to find it at one of the small shops near the restaurant. Adorned in leather, the entire box is the shade of sky blue similar to Elsa’s striking eyes. 

Her heart wrenches at the thought of her. Even if she’ll never fully understand Elsa’s pain, she has to try.

A not-so-brilliant idea dawns on her. She reaches over the cake already placed at the table’s center. She hates wasting food, but the fruits would be able to cover up what she’s about to do. With a spoon, she removes a part of the strawberry pile and digs out some of the cake to make space for the box.

Her heart leaps as she hears the clinking of keys by the door, urging her to stick the box inside and fix the cake in haste. Not caring anymore if it looks decent, she places it back at the table’s center, and dashes to the hallway with her party horn.

As the door opens, she blows the horn in glee. “Merry Christmas!”

“Uh… Merry… Christmas?” A nervous laugh comes out from Elsa, still wincing at the loud noise as she gives Maren a puzzled look. 

“C’mon missy, the party’s about to start!”

“Okay…” Freed from her boots, Elsa walks back inside and her eyes widen at the new colors in the living room and kitchen counter. “I’m pretty sure it’s only the twenty-sec—”

“And, I’m pretty sure Christmas lasts all of December. I even got us Santa hats!” Maren wears one herself as she offers another to Elsa.

“Um, no thank you.”

Is it her, or does Elsa look more tired than usual?

“So, what do you think?” Maren walks over to the dining area and gestures at the food she prepared. “Tonight’s menu includes Roman pasta with tuna and chili peppers, seafood pizza with shrimp, scallops, and mushrooms, and…” She points at the cake, its toppings looking messier than she thought. Pushing back the heat threatening to invade her cheeks, she comes up with an explanation. “I kinda wrecked it while decorating, but it was okay until then. You can at least still read the text, right?”

“Sure,” Elsa regards the cake with a questioning look. “But if you don’t mind, I have to change firs—”

“That can wait!” Maren grabs Elsa’s hand, her chest drumming as she urges Elsa to sit down. “Let’s try the cake first, shall we?” Maren takes her seat beside her, pretending to wait for her turn.

“Dessert usually comes last, if you didn't know.”

“Yes, but it’s gonna lose its cool, and there’s no more space in the fridge,” Maren grabs a small plate for Elsa. “Oh, and you have to eat the slice at the left corner of the mountain.”

Elsa turns the cake to the spot Maren specified. “Are servers supposed to be this demanding towards their guests?” She takes the cake knife, slicing through the pile of strawberries when she stops in confusion. “Something’s hard inside—”

“Why don’t you check it?”

Elsa looks at Maren for a second, before she returns to the cake. With a fork, she takes out the pieces of strawberry and filling. She comes to a still at the unveiled sight.

Maren observes as Elsa gently removes the box, smeared by chocolate bits. Elsa’s fingers carry it as if it’s the most delicate thing in the world, and a sudden warmth grows inside Maren’s chest as she watches her open it.

Elsa pulls out the bracelet, shining next to her pale skin. A small snowflake pendant sits at the center, a crowning glory contrasting the simplicity of its thin chains.

“Happy birthday.” 

Maren sees the look of surprise on Elsa as their eyes meet. Worried over her growing silence, she quips. “It’s not real silver like the ones you own, so you’re probably thinking I’m cheap. That’s not news to anyone, though—” 

Pain flashes across Elsa’s features and Maren doesn’t miss the furrowing of her brows and the watering of her eyes. “Are you okay—”

“No, I’m fine—”

“Is it that bad—”

“No, it’s just—” 

A soft sob erupts from Elsa, which she tries to cover as she slumps over. As Maren rushes to her side, she notices the bags under her eyes, no longer concealed enough by her makeup. Elsa looks so fatigued. When their eyes meet again, she succumbs into Maren’s inviting arms, falling off from her chair.

Maren rubs Elsa’s back in circular motions, feeling the growing dampness on her shoulder. The passing of time should soothe old scars, but some wounds can never go away—to live through them in a cruel loop is something she can’t fathom. It must have been punishment for Elsa, who feels smaller than ever right now in her embrace.

“I’m sorry…”

She can’t promise to erase Elsa’s suffering. Letting go is always easier said than done. 

But she’s made up her mind.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Elsa sinks deeper into Maren’s embrace, her body convulsing into quieter sobs. Maren doesn’t know if her words would seep in deep enough for Elsa to forgive herself, but she’ll say them over and over again if she needs to.

They don’t break away from the embrace, even when Elsa has started to calm down. Maren feels Elsa’s movement from behind, and before she can ask, Elsa lets go to show off the bracelet encircling her wrist. She sees her eyes still red from fresh tears, her loose bun asserting her disheveled look.

“We can’t have you looking like a total mess on your first day of being twenty-nine, grandma.” Maren tucks the loose strands behind Elsa’s ear and grabs a napkin to dab her face clean. “There, all pretty.”

As Maren puts away the napkin, she doesn’t expect the caress of a cold palm on her face, and the closing of their distance once more. Elsa gifts her cheek with the gentlest of kisses, and pulls her into another embrace. “Thank you.”

_ I’ll always be in your present. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to give everyone who's read and helped work on this story a huge thank you. It's been a real pleasure to start creative writing with this story as my main playground. Not only has it helped me wonders, but I've also grown attached to this cast of troubled young adults still stumbling through life. As 2020 closes, I hope that the story so far has given something meaningful for you, the reader, as it did for me in this ongoing journey.
> 
> Happy holidays, stay safe and see you next year!


	10. Let Me Go

**Verse 10**

_“En garde!¨_

_He advanced. His opponent lunged, though a few seconds behind._

_Easy._

_Only one touch left. By that point, he had learned much of the opponent’s maneuvers. There was no way he’d misstep; not when the target was right there, enticing him to deliver a swift riposte._

_Holding his breath, he evaded the lunge and thrusted forward at a blistering pace. His blade bent as it jabbed his opponent’s shoulder._

_He exhaled. He had him. But the glee from his victory was quickly replaced by the rising heat of embarrassment as he stumbled forward from his fast momentum._

_So much for a graceful ending. He ended up tripping and tumbling on the floor._

_He rolled on his back, groaning. As his head cleared from the blazing fog, cheer mixed with laughter diffused like echo through his helmet. Returning to his feet immediately, he paced towards his so-called friends._

_“Nice landing, Meyers.”_

_He removed his helmet, combing through his damp auburn locks. “Oh, piss off, Trevor,”_

_“At this rate, you can sweep Kat away again. Oh wait—you’d land flat on your ass too!” Trevor guffawed._

_That event from the house party last weekend had trailed him everywhere he went on the campus. Katherine had been drunk and mad at him, but it wasn’t as if he could have done anything about it—it was trivial in every way, and he hadn’t bothered digesting anything she’d been saying. But he had gone a little too far with his indifference as he stepped backwards, his arms up receiving her rage, not noticing the messy floor of the living room. He had tripped, catching everyone’s attention, and he’d known then who’d be the next center of gossip._

_But what the hell did that matter? What had he been doing there in the first place?_

_“Give it up, bro. Everybody knows Katherine Logan is high maintenance.”_

_He already knew that. He tolerated her because she put up with his pretense longer than anyone did. And she felt nice. A welcome diversion from the constant bullshit that surrounded him._

_There had been a point when home was a spot of tranquility for him. But it wouldn’t be for long if he kept slacking off. He refused to hear more scorn from his so-called relatives._

_Sloppy. Careless. Not enough._

_He wasn’t going to let them take his sister from his wing._

_He massaged the sides of his knees, no longer registering the chattering of his classmates. It took him a while to realize that it had dwindled down, leaving only the sounds of blades clashing._

_Looking up, he saw that a new Sabre match had started. It was hard to look away. He'd never seen anyone attack with such calculated speed, leaving the match entirely one-sided. As far as he knew, no one in their fencing club was pursuing it professionally._

_There was something about their graceful movements, precise lashes, and jabs flying at the perfect moments. He looked around; everyone else was absorbed—it must be entertainment for the rest of their small group, who mostly joined to kill time._

_Curiosity rose in him as he waited for their assured win._

_Who was this person?_

_With a final impressive riposte, they retreated from their battle stance in refined composure. They walked off to the side, placing their blade down on one of the seats._

_As they removed their helmet, the noise faded._

_And there was only her._

* * *

Hans readjusts his blazer as he glances at his reflection. He’s sure to catch people’s eyes with his bright get-up: a casual shirt adorned by his light-grey Zarian suit, partnered with white slacks and a pair of pointed leather shoes.

He knows he looks great. And he knows it won’t do much once he enters the lobby filled with two hundred of Arendale’s most influential personalities.

He only has to pull it off like he always does.

Entering the dim lobby, subtle tunes of bossa nova greet him, threading in between crowd chatter. Everyone is in their own circles, dressed in gallant wear while standing around bar tables, conversing in between wine and champagne. Waiters roam around carrying trays of roasted beef, though the aroma is quickly lost in the throng’s heavy incense.

Hans’ head is already thrumming. This party will last all night, but it’s still not a lot of time. He has to decide. He focuses in the circles, recognizing a few people: there’s Jaime Evergreen, head of one of the leading architectural firms in the state, and a few seats on his right is Alyssa Milton, successor to the Milton Group, head of its hotel branches worldwide. A grouchy man who segues into crudeness at inopportune times and a shady woman who manages dubious properties hidden from the authority’s eye.

Hans studies the crowd around them, but they don’t fare any better against his judgement. What did he expect? _This_ is the top of the pyramid.

Tired of ruminating, he turns to the other direction, where he sees the familiar blue suit of an old acquaintance. 

Evan Ortiz greets him with a cheeky smile, beckoning him over to his table. “It’s been too long, man!”

“Only been a week, Evan.” Hans gives him a quick hug. He glances at the rest of the group, not recognizing a single person.

And it begins. Handshakes, then the exchanging of names. Bolster the conversation right off with charisma. Ask what they do, throw a compliment, here and there. Laughter. It works, as he expected. Everyone’s having a good time, glinting eyes and stretched smiles. 

Then he feels the widening gap. It’s always been there; you can’t erase it. Yachts, racing cars, villas—common adornments inherited from ruling families of the Upper Side.

Family. His mother’s back growing small in the distance. His father’s arms wrapped around a younger woman at the dinner table. 

Anna’s trembling hands as she dabbed his bloody face, courtesy of their father.

Hans takes his first drink for the night. More laughter. It’s set off by a stale joke from a guy whose name has already escaped him. Joe? Joey? Hans bids his own taste of wit, earning a louder set of cackles, and finally, he feels good. He’s behind the steering wheel.

A light brush on his leg doesn’t go unnoticed by him. He turns to see Therese Byrne eyeing him. Her tanned cheeks are contoured with thin wrinkles, though only to accentuate her undeniable beauty. Curly blonde hair flowed on her side, flaunting her exposed shoulders.

Hans smiles. You can go pretty far with someone who owns one of the most prestigious fashion labels.

“So, Hans Meyers, why drop the nomad’s life?” Therese chimes, not looking away.

“Good question.” Hans pours himself another. “I wouldn’t say I ever stopped. Arendale just happens to be one of the biggest, and I’ve only just arrived.”

A chuckle. In a lower voice, Therese mutters, “I’d say you’re long overdue for a real welcome.”

And there it is, an open door.

But it doesn’t stay open for long. A man looms behind her, his arm snaking around her waist. Therese’s features stiffen, even as her smile stays in place.

“Don’t you fly around to babysit teenagers?” Amid the clinker and chatter, his voice is boisterous enough to catch the table’s attention. 

Hans’s smile doesn’t waver, though he can feel heat rising within.

“Dave, you’ve had too much to drink—”

“It was a genuine question.” Dave’s voice rises. 

Hans locks his gaze at him. “And I don’t think I’m obliged to answer it.”

He can feel the animosity in Dave’s stare, filled with scorn you can find in those who lived only to look down on others.

Hans’s chest burns.

“Excuse me, sorry, let’s break it off, yeah? Hans, why don’t I introduce you to the others?” Evan shoots him a cautious look.

Of course, he’s the one who needs to be excused. You don’t avoid stepping on the wrong foot—you simply don’t do it. Not when you can be squashed in the blink of an eye. Not without an empire of your own.

“Sorry, man, you just don’t ever wanna cross a Byrne, you know?”

“I’m not a fool, Evan.”

“I know, I know.” They walk off across the other side of the lobby, next to a buffet of Arendalian desserts. “The offer’s still up. You don’t need to risk it all right here. You have it in you, and we’re gonna go even higher.” Evan picks up a plate of passionberry. “The investors were locked in last week. That’s thirty million crowns, and we can get more. But only if you’re there with us.”

Evan continues to ramble about Spectra’s growing investment. Hans would earn a position that would propel him to top management and fly him beyond the Northern States. True, it would be less riskier than jumping right into the belly of the beast. And Evan might not be a complete tool riding on his parents’ coattails, after all.

What is there to lose? He’s been waiting for this all his life.

A bump on his side disrupts his thoughts, causing his fork to fall from his grip. Bits of passionberry spatter on his shoes, marring its leather with sticky red cream. 

Cursing inside, Hans excuses himself to the restrooms to quickly wipe it off. As he kneels down, a memory returns to him: a serene evening of exchanging belated Christmas gifts, and Elsa’s shy smile as he unwraps the box to reveal a pair of leather shoes.

* * *

The beep of his car’s lock echoes as he ambles into the quiet of Elsa’s neighborhood. Wisps of afternoon drizzle from the sky’s looming grey, lending a caress of warmth in Arendale’s long winters.

Hans checks the time. _2:39 pm._ He figured a surprise weekend visit after lunch wouldn’t be a hassle in their accustomed schedules.

And he needs to see her.

The building comes into view, and he considers calling her. Or, at least, sending a message before ringing her doorbell.

He gives in. But as he pulls out his phone, a familiar figure in black overalls walks out of the building, carrying large plastic bags. Before he can give it a second thought, he follows them towards the garbage bins.

“Honeymaren?”

As she dumps the bags inside the bin, Honeymaren looks over. Surprise flits across her eyes. “Hans, hey. How’s it going?”

“I’m good, thanks. I’m on my way to meet Elsa.” His eyes jump to the bins, then back to her. “I didn’t know you lived here too.”

“Oh, right.” Honeymaren shoves her hands in her pockets. “Wanna come inside? Elsa will be a while.”

They make their way in without a word, until she speaks up again. “Actually, I room with Elsa.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” They go in the elevator. Honeymaren presses the button for the seventh floor.

By the time they reach Elsa’s door, Honeymaren has laid out her story to Hans. And it wasn't a surprise at all. He knows bits and pieces through Anna, and from their brief encounters years ago.

Entering the warmth of Elsa’s place, Honeymaren offers him a drink, and he opts for coffee. “I think you’ve done well so far. And it’s nice of Elsa to let you stay.”

“Yeah, it is. Though,” Honeymaren gets herself a mug of tea, “it won’t be for long. If things go smoothly, I’m flying out of the States in five months.”

“Oh, where to?”

“Roma. I applied to Cielo Dance Arts.”

Fascination dawns on Hans. “That’s incredible. Isn’t that one of the top ten in the world?”

“Yeah, I think it’s the ninth right now.”

“I hope you make it, then.”

Honeymaren shoots him a smile. “Thanks.”

Hans ponders. “It would be great if Anna gets to go with you.”

Honeymaren looks away. “Yeah.”

He ignores her obvious shift. “I know she’s been modest, looking around Arendale. Of course, this isn’t just any city too. But she’ll stand out more with an international setting’s experience.”

“True that. You saw right through my plans.”

Hans returns a smile, but rueful thoughts cloud his mind. “I think… it would also work out, considering I’ll be travelling more again for a longer time.”

“Oh?”

Before Hans can explain, the opening of the door catches their attention. She comes into view, holding a small bag of grocery. 

“Why weren’t you answering my—” Surprise colors Elsa’s features. 

“And that’s my cue to leave,” Honeymaren announces on a mischievous note. “I got a long sesh today. Hans has been waiting for you.” She looks at Hans, then back to Elsa. “You guys enjoy the rest of your day.”

And she’s gone. Hans gives Elsa a chaste forehead kiss before taking her bag. They catch up with their day. He almost brings Honeymaren up before he remembers the real reason he’s here.

Sitting in the living room with afternoon snacks, Hans thinks of how to start. He turns to Elsa. Strands of hair dance around her soft features. Is he seeing things, or do her eyes seem downcast? But it shouldn’t be foreign to him; Elsa has always worn reticence, the very thing that pulled him to touch her all those years ago.

But he didn’t come here to sate the same urge. “Mind scooting over?”

“Hm?”

“Yeah.” Elsa scoots. “A bit further.”

“Like this?”

Without a warning, he lays down on her lap. He closes his eyes. Then light fingertips graze his hair, and the fog clears. A moment of peace he can only find in her.

He gently grabs her moving hand and feels it with his face. She smells of wintery mint. “I’m going to be away near the end of February. I accepted Evan’s offer.”

“Oh...”

“I was thinking, maybe we should make some plans before I leave. Let’s go to that reunion party at Felix Heights next weekend. It’s a small crowd, and we can also have time for ourselves.”

If only it was as easy as keeping her in his pocket, close to him wherever he goes.

“Sure.”

* * *

The first guy Elsa kissed was in middle school. It was nothing special, born from teenage peer pressure.

The second was the first time she dated: a guy she met at her Math elective in high school. One month in, she found out he was three-timing her.

The third was a two-year relationship from work, flushed down into the drain by an affair.

The fourth is the first person who touched her.

The hairdryer whirrs in her hand, her gaze lost in the waterfall of chestnut brown in front of her. She combs through the damp locks with her fingers, drying them as if it could also blow away her growing anxieties.

Back then, it was simple. There was only the need to stay by his side. If it meant changing for him, she did it. She slept with him, even when he had a girlfriend.

But was it always the closeness she wanted? No—she knew they’ve always had that distance. What they have now is no different from then—close enough to touch, yet far enough to safeguard their own globes of insecurities.

And that’s okay, isn’t it? Their separate living situation works in their favor: they both get the space they need. He gets to work for his steep ambitions, and she gets to breathe. And when they meet, drops of happiness strew their days.

So what is this swelling uncertainty?

“Um, Elsa, it’s a lil’ hot.”

Is it because he’s going to be away for some time? The growing distance could be a problem. Hans has been patient with her decision around their intimacy. It was supposed to help her heal. Maybe it’s backfiring, and she needs to be bolder.

“Ow.”

Maybe finally living together is the answer. She’s visited his place a couple of times, and it has been nice. Yesterday was the same, even though she was distracted by the sight of Maren with him. He laid down on her lap as he talked about making plans before and after his trips.

Hans said he felt comfortable.

But she—

“Ow ow ow!”

Maren’s yelps pull Elsa from her swirling thoughts. “Oh… sorry.”

“I think my scalp is literally on fire.” Maren jounces her loose hair with a scrunched expression. She positions herself before Elsa again, then turns back around. She must have noticed Elsa’s stillness. “Um, I think it’s still a little wet—”

“Do you ever get anxious over whether you really like someone?”

Maren blinks. “Why? Did something happen?”

Elsa tries to answer, but she can only sigh.

“Well…” Maren shrugs. “You can just make sure of it yourself.”

“How?”

“... For example, I would do this, and say...” Maren holds her hand, caressing her knuckles with her thumb. She looks up.

“I love you.”

Suddenly, everything freezes.

Elsa’s heart thrums louder. She yanks her hand out of Maren’s grip.

“See? It’s that simple.” Maren starts braiding her hair. “Just saying that you love them closes the distance. It’s the most effective thing.”

“I… see.” Standing up to hide her racing heartbeat, Elsa puts away the hairdryer. Would saying it really solve everything? 

She’s never said it to Hans. Three small words. 

Maybe it’s time to try.

Which reminds her that she has yet to let Maren know. Facing Maren, Elsa ignores the increase of her heartbeat. “By the way, I’m going to a reunion party with Hans next weekend.”

“Oh…” Maren climbs up on the sofa. “I was invited to a dance seminar that weekend.” She sighs. “If only I’d known, I’d have put my name down. Guess I’ll mind the house again.”

Elsa’s heart twinges at the sight of Maren’s sulking. She returns by the sofa. Placing a hand on the back of Maren's head, she leans down and nuzzles Maren's hair. 

“Sorry, I’ll come home as soon as I can.”

* * *

“First of all, it’s not my problem she has such an attitude that not even _Emily_ can stand her. I mean, we’re talking about Emily here. Theoretically speaking, they _should_ be on the same wavelength. But apparently, it is possible for Vicky to be too far gone, even for her.”

Anna finishes off with an animated gesture. She dips two fries in her vanilla ice cream before shoving it into her mouth. “I just don’t get why she cries to me, of all people. And since I don’t want to start anything, I sit there and absorb it all, anyway. Maybe I should be mean for once.”

“Hm.” Ryder grabs a can of Cola. “Maybe, she’s sucking up to you because she has her eyes on your brother.”

Anna gives him an incredulous look. “Um, I hope not. Besides… he has a girlfriend.”

“True, true. That lady would give her the death stare.”

Would Elsa go that far for Hans? Maren doubts it.

“But she’s into older men, right? Didn’t people catch her fucking Mr. Anderson in the car last summer?”

Kristoff opens his can of beer. “The chem prof? Wonder how it smelled in there.”

“Ew—” Anna chokes on her iced tea, “Kristoff!?”

Ryder bursts into laughter, and Kristoff’s serious expression breaks into chortles. There they are, sitting on the studio’s floor after a day of intensive sessions. At some point, eating dinner turned into ranting about new roommates and college gossip.

Maren should be relaxed. But she isn't.

“You still here, Maren?”

“Huh? Yeah.” And she can’t help it if she’s not. She’s only here because a certain someone wrote her name down on the list without her knowledge.

But she prefers this, right?

She needs space.

“Where you going?” Ryder says as she stands.

“Potty break.”

Maren can feel eyes on her, but she doesn’t care enough to explain why she’s heading the opposite way. She strides into the lobby, heading out through the doors. When the nippy air greets her, she inhales the wintry chill like a remedy in her lungs.

She treads towards the small harbor around the corner next to the beach. She sees the outline of small boats, accentuated by the full moon. The winds are a little strong, and now she has half a mind to go back inside and get a scarf.

She finds a spot near the boats that can block the wind for her. She sits on the sand, and more quiet descends as she looks out to the dark, empty horizon, listening to the rustling of waves.

It doesn’t last for long. Her phone rings, and the moment she sees the caller ID glee floods into her chest. 

“Hey, ‘sup!”

_“Hi.”_

“How's the party going?”

No response. She checks the screen and sees that the call is still ongoing. “Hello? Elsa? Are you still there? Hello?”

Maren wonders why, when she turns around and sees the figure closing in, staring at her with a phone in one ear. _No way._

Is she dreaming? She’s clearly not, as Elsa’s weight is now on her, crushing her in a hug. They almost stumble back on the sand, and she can only chuckle.

Elsa pulls back and stares at her in wonder. Moonlight casts the side of her grinning face. 

Beautiful.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

Maren points towards the building she came from. “Anna wrote my name down for the seminar. I’m guessing your party is close by?”

“Yeah. It’s in the hotel right next to it.”

“Ooo, the one with the big pool. Wait, pool party? In this weather?”

“Exactly. Either way, I wouldn’t have enjoyed it even if it was warmer.” Elsa’s look turns sheepish. “I can’t swim.”

A snicker escapes Maren. “Oh no, Miss Larsen, that’s no good at all. We have to fix that asap.”

“Uhuh,” Elsa hugs her knees. At her side, her bag comes into view.

And it clicks. “Were you about to leave?”

“Oh, it’s not like that, but—“

“Okay, then I’m leaving too.”

“What—don’t be ridiculous! You came all this way, don’t waste it.”

“S’all good. I got enough worth from today’s sessions.” As Maren pats the sand away on her legs while standing up, she feels the tug on her sweatshirt.

“No, it’s not good. You don’t have to just because I—”

“Elsa.” Maren grabs the hand tugging her. “All you have to say is ‘let’s go home’.”

“...Let’s… go home?”

Maren beams. “Okay, I’ll go grab my stuff.”

She runs back to the building, sneaking through the lobby and into her room to grab her bag. Luckily no one has noticed her return. She’ll have to come up with an excuse when she arrives home. 

As she walks outside, she hums to the tune of a song that came to her out of nowhere. The moon glows even brighter than earlier, illuminating the picture of Elsa and her lop-sided grin in her mind. She paces up to the harbor, eager to see her.

Only to find that Elsa isn’t alone.

In front of her is Hans, panting with a look of worry. Maren slows down and steps out of their view, enough to hear their conversation from afar. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… I thought you might be mad at me. You were a bit distant today.”

“Oh…” Elsa looks down. “I was a little tired. You’re imagining things.”

Maren can barely hear them now. As their quiet grows, she can feel her earlier words slip through her fingers. _Let’s go home._

And when she sees them kiss under the moonlight, she can only turn around. Once more, she hums to the same tune tethered to that picture of hers, desperate to not let it slip away, too. She hums louder because there’s no other way to escape the present.

“Where were you?” Anna calls out to her, but Maren keeps walking.

She’s back where she was. Yeah, that’s all she’s capable of. 

Being stuck.

“Walking.”

“With your bag?”

She doesn’t turn around.

“We have extra lessons after dinner. Coming?”

“No. Can you tell ‘em I’m not feeling well? I’ll skip this one out.”

Before she can head into the hallway, arms wrap her from behind.

At her side, Anna’s freckled cheeks glow in rose as she mutters,“...I might skip the lesson too…”

It can’t be helped.

* * *

Elsa watches the dancing flames, its sparks flying up and fading into the darkness. There’s mild chatter and laughter from her behind, along with the clinking of glasses and bottles brought out for the late night. She has faded into their background. 

And she couldn’t care less.

She glances at the house Maren’s supposed to be in, and her heart throbs. It prompts her to grab her phone in her pocket. She stops. No, not even a call or a message would cut it.

That does it. She has to own up for what happened. She stands up, determined to keep her emotions in check, and sneaks from the group.

It’s pitch black when she arrives. _Is everyone asleep already?_ She roams the vicinity until she finds one of the elevated rooms lit with clear sliding doors.

As she climbs up the wooden stairs, she hears the light pounding of steps. Who could be practicing this late? 

Her answer arrives when she sees the gliding of toned arms in the air, etched with the all too familiar wings that can only belong to Maren. There’s no music playing, but Maren’s leaps and turns are more than enough to fill the void. 

Elsa steps closer to the glass doors. Maren is someone else when she dances. It always impressed Elsa, but now it only spurs a wave of loneliness.

No, she can fix this. First things first, she has to apologize. 

She’s about to knock on the glass when the door inside opens, revealing another familiar figure. 

Anna enters the room, strawberry blonde hair flowing down her shoulders. Elsa lowers her hand. Anna and Maren talk, their voices obscure through the glass, but clear enough to discern.

“Practicing after everyone’s asleep?”

“No, I just can’t sleep. I thought moving around would help.”

All this time, Elsa has been wondering: did Maren also get lonely?

“Like, doing a hundred sets of what Darren taught earlier.”

“Um, yeah, that’s called passing out instead of falling asleep.”  
Maren chuckles, and Elsa aches.

“And why are _you_ here? Oh, I know.” Maren pinches Anna’s cheeks. “That’s what you get for being such a pig.” She chuckles once more as Anna pouts.

As if the harrowing ache wasn’t enough, Elsa watches as Anna caresses Maren’s grinning face.

And Anna kisses her.

Maybe it was never different between Elsa and Maren. It’s simple. Maren has her own world, too, and Elsa is not in it. 

Elsa watches them, each touch stippling hurt in her being, each kiss prickling her chest. And when Maren pushes Anna on the wall, something else stirs: a swirling storm threatening to erupt in her core.

It’s only when her eyes almost catch teal that she’s reminded of her place. Elsa steps away in haste, not caring if she misses a step down the stairs.

Walk. Walk away before she crumbles. 

She was wrong after all.

But Maren can’t live without her, right?

“Elsa?”

No… She isn’t ready to see him. “Hans…” 

He offers her a canned beer. “Do you want the last one? Everyone else went inside.”

“...No, it’s fine.”

He puts the can down by the rocks and takes a seat. “It’s really nice out here.”

“Yeah…” Elsa reluctantly joins him. The rocks sit under a wooden balcony, connected to the studio room. 

They’re not that far from them.

“Are you going to work tomorrow?”

“Yes… I was thinking of heading to work immediately from here. And maybe leave early.”

“I have tomorrow off. I can go and pick you up in the afternoon.”

“No, it’s okay—”

“You know, I’m just using it as an excuse to drop by your place.” Hans shifts closer, his eyes dilated. The whiff of champagne in his breath doesn’t go unnoticed to Elsa. Is he drunk?

Before she can segue, Hans moves in for a kiss and pushes her down. 

_No, not here!_

“Hans—” She gasps, feeling the jagged edges of the rock through her cardigan. 

It hurts, not because Hans is more aggressive than usual, but because she would rather drown in this shame again. And as Hans nips her neck and feels her chest, she lets it happen, she succumbs to it—anything to pull her away from the storm.

But she’s a fool. Because when she looks up, she sees _her_ eyes. And a weight of sadness sinks into her like no other.

_No—Maren saw me—She saw—_

As her chest pounds in pain, Elsa hisses. “Hans, someone’s above us!”

“Don’t worry about them.”

_No!_

In her frustration, she gathers her strength to carefully push Hans away. “I’m sorry, but please, not here.”

Hans pulls away, combing hands through his hair, seemingly coming to his senses. “No, I’m sorry, you’re right.”

Silence grows between them. Elsa ends it. “I need some space tonight. But I’ll return to our room later.”

Hans grants it, bidding goodnight with clouded eyes.

She waits until he disappears into the hotel. It’s only when he’s out of sight that she finally musters the courage to turn around and look back up at the balcony. 

There’s no one. Was she only seeing things?

She needs to clear her head, and her throat is parched. The can Hans brought has spoiled, so she walks back up to the alley where vending machines sit. It feels odd to be doing something so normal amid what happened in the last hour.

At the clonk of the can she bought, a voice disproves that thought.

"Having fun?"

It turns out Elsa wasn’t seeing things, after all. Her stomach churls. "You're one to talk."

Maren walks over, buying her own can of drink. So much has transpired since they were this last close.

“What are you gonna do about tomorrow?”

“Huh?”

“If Hans is staying over, I can go somewhere.”

“...No, it’s fine. I’ll just say no—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll just disappear for a couple of days.”

 _What?_ “What are you saying? You don’t have anywhere else to go—”

"Sure I do."

_Pang._

“I have a bit of money saved. My friends don’t have enough space, sure. But no one can resist these looks, right?” Maren smirks as she drinks. “It's not like I'm gonna die without you around.”

_Oh..._

“Oh… okay.” Elsa looks away. “Then leave.” 

“No problem. Enjoy all the fun you can get.”

Heat riles up in Elsa. “What are you even trying to say—”

A tug pulls her in as Maren closes the distance between them. Shock invades Elsa’s senses, not from the familiar lips that captured hers, but from Maren’s tight grip around her wrist. Elsa struggles. The heat inside her is washed away by the confusion of accepting Maren’s urges, and it transforms into fear as her back hits the vending machine, their legs entangled. 

Fear? Why? Elsa never thought she’d meet Maren’s strength in this way. Is this anger? _Why?_ Why did it come to this?

Maren's lips now move gentler, her strong hold dissolving into a caress on her face. Elsa thinks she's going to cry. It's akin to their past kisses, now unearthed from the recess of those secret memories. 

It's too much. It wells up inside, until she reaches her limit and shoves Maren away. The drinks they both held fizzle on the ground, and it’s the only sound joining their heavy breathing.

“Okay then… Bye.”

Maren leaves, and all Elsa can see is the sight of her back shrinking into the distance.

* * *

Elsa is not a morning person. On weekdays, she has to be up as early as six. She’d put the coffee on, prepare her bag for work, wash up, and cook breakfast for the day.

Then it’s time to wake Maren up.

Yet, like the past week, no answer came from the loft today. Even as Elsa climbed up the ladder, expecting to see her, sleeping in. Never mind the fact that her bag is not around. 

But that’s okay. Maren has had a few busy nights before.

Elsa arrives at work in time to hear Flynn drop an off-handed comment: “I miss Maren around.”

 _Oh, that’s right._ Maren’s contract ended the other day.

And it’s fine. Maren said she’s been looking for a new part-time job. She was looking at something closer to the studio, which would give her more free time. Elsa hopes she finds it.

Time flies. What should she cook tonight? She taps her fingers on the steering wheel. They haven’t had beef stew in a while, and it’s one of Maren’s favorites. Yes, she’s decided. As soon as she gets out of this damn traffic.

It’s not super late, but she barely makes it in time for dinner. The house is empty and quiet, and it gives her brief relief. She still has some time to cook.

She puts the TV on idle. Anchors report something about the protests in the city that have been going on for a month. Maren always had a lot to say about them.

Shoot, she didn’t mess the stew up, did she? She shouldn’t have been distracted by the TV, nor by the fact that it’s already two hours past their dinner time. But she figures Maren might be starving; she usually dislikes buying food out. So Elsa still prepares the table for two, ignoring the fact that it’s eleven in the evening, and places the bowl of stew at the center. She waits again.

Maren doesn’t come home.


End file.
